


This is Home

by arianapeterson19



Series: Avengers Shorts [19]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Avengers Family, Bonding, Brothers, Child Abuse, Coffee, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fights, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Tony, Kid Bucky Barnes, Kid Fic, Kid Steve Rogers, Kid Tony Stark, Mentions of Suicide, Nurse Sarah, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Rhodey, Protective Steve, Sickfic, Tags Are Fun, Tony Needs a Hug, Triggers, Trust Issues, mentioned death, mentions of depression, treehouse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arianapeterson19/pseuds/arianapeterson19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony was fairly certain that the new family that moved in next door were sent only to make him realize how screwed up his life really was (as if he needed the reminder). </p><p>OR</p><p>The one where Tony has a tree house and Steve and Bucky are brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moving Day

Brown, the color of freshly brewed coffee, rich, crisp, and full of life, so brown it almost looked fake, the only proof that it was real was at the roots, which never faded or altered, always staying consistently coffee brown. His eyes were like the sea water off the coast of Maine after a storm, a muddy mixture of brown with a hint of blue green in the right light, surrounded by a lightly tanned field of soft skin, his nose delicate, lower lip fuller than the top. He looked frail, as if a strong wind would break him and carry off the pieces.

The day they moved in next door, he was reading on a hammock in his backyard. A strip of lush green grass acted as a fence between the properties, leaving a clear view of the yards for each other to see. As the movers worked at unloading various vans full of furniture and boxes, a boy walked out and inspected the yard, curiously exploring like a little child. He didn't see Tony - few people did. His hide out was in the large oak tree near the property line, hidden amongst the leaves in a small tree house with a large wooden porch where his hammock hung, suspended between two forked branches. The rope ladder was pulled up and coiled on the platform, rendering him out of reach from the ground below. It always struck him as funny how people seldom looked up.

"Angel!" called a woman from the backdoor, wearing an orange dress.

"I'm out here!" responded the boy.

"Come inside, please, and help your father set up the living room."

The boy meandered back to the house, shaking his long, dark hair out of his eyes. His long strides took him through the door and out of sight, leaving Tony to ponder the new boy's handsome, bad boy look that contrasted his laid back manner.

"Boy!" came the contrasting yell of his father from the kitchen window. "Get inside now!"

Tony sighed, placed his book back into the waterproof box inside the tree house walls, threw the ladder over the edge, and clambered down. The wind whipped his shaggy hair, swinging it about like a flag. As soon as his bare feet hit the ground, he was running for the door as if he was being chased by hell hounds.

"Yes?" he asked politely, hovering near the island in the center of the marble clad kitchen.

"Don't speak to me!" shouted his father, advancing on him. "Where is my dinner?"

He stood still, inwardly sighing.

"Answer me!" he demanded, slamming Tony against the island.

"It's on the table," he gasped, pain shooting up his hip.

"Next time answer me the first time I say something!"

He threw him back and marched towards his dinner as Tony landed with a rough thud. Picking himself off the floor, he shook his head, shut the cherry wood cabinet doors his father had left open, and went back out to read his book. Outside, the movers still lugged things up the cut stone path. He paused to watch, but they ignored him.

"Hello!" said a six and a half foot, blonde hair toned boy, walking up to him. "I'm Steve Rogers-Barnes. We just moved in next door. Who are you?"

"I'm Tony," Tony responded, placing an appropriate smile on his face.

"It's nice to meet you, Tony," said Steve, shaking his hand.

"Do you need some help?" offered Tony over a crash that came from his house.

"Sure."

They walked to Steve's new house, a large, old fashioned red brick building, elegantly framed with horticulture, dodging movers as they went. The inside was already well on the way to becoming a home, pots filling the shelves of the kitchen as the woman in orange with soft blonde hair arranged her kitchen the way she desired.

"Hey, mom!" greeted Steve. "This is Tony. He lives next door and wanted to know if he could help."

"Hello, Tony," smiled Steve's mother. "My name is Sarah Rogers-Barnes, but please call me Sarah. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," said Tony, smiling shyly at the beautiful woman who looked uncannily like her son.

"Stevie, darling, why don't you introduce Tony to your brother and you can set up the rooms upstairs?"

Steve kissed his mother’s pale cheek and led Tony around the house, showing him each room in progress. Upstairs, they found the dark brown haired, naturally tan boy Tony had seen in the yard earlier.

"Hey Stevie," said the boy, smiling from his seat on the ground next to a box of records. "Who's the boy?"

"This is Tony," introduced Steve. "He lives next door."

"Tony," said the boy, swishing the name around his mouth as if to see how it fit. "What is that short for?"

"Anthony," said Tony promptly.

"I approve. I hate when people shorten Anthony to Andy. It's such an awkward word, too many letters that don’t actually belong in the real name."

"So did my mom. That's why she insisted it be Tony."

"Well, I'm James Buchanan Barnes, but people just call me Bucky."

"Want help unpacking?" asked Tony, unsure of what to say to these boys he just met.

In answer, Bucky pushed a box at him. The three spent a pleasant evening unpacking and putting away various belongings. Bucky and Steve did most of the talking, telling stories from their previous home, reliving memories as objects were unearthed from packing foam like an archeological dig. The work went quickly that way and soon the upstairs living room and both of the boy’s bedrooms were complete.

"So, Tony," said Bucky, sitting back as he finished the last box. "How long have you lived here?"

"We moved in eight years, seven months, and 24 days ago," responded Tony without really thinking.

"How are you so exact?" asked Steve, staring at the smaller youth as if he had just spoken another language.

"I just remember stuff like that."

"Are you boys hungry?" asked a man in a booming voice, causing Tony to jump.

"Yes!" exclaimed Steve and Bucky, jumping up and pulling Tony to his feet.

"Who are you?" asked the man, not unkindly, who looked like an older version of Bucky, his hair brown, tall and broad, and he spoke with a strange accent Tony couldn't quite place.

Tony didn't answer, just leaned back against the wall, his eyes wide and face unreadable.

"This is Tony," supplied Steve, his hands moving expressively. "He lives next door."

"It's very good to meet you, Tony," smiled the man, which softened his round face. "I'm William Barnes."

"Hello," said Tony, his voice soft.

"Dad," persisted Bucky. "You were talking about food."

"Right!" said William. "Well, your mom has some sandwiches made downstairs, so why don't we have our first meal together in our new house?"

"Yes!" chorused the boys as though the man had just declared it a feast.

"Of course, you'll join us, won't you, Tony?" offered William.

"Yes, sir," said Tony, his voice still soft.

"Excellent!"

The four of them trooped down the stairs like a parade of dinosaurs, creating much noise with their stamping feet that echoed off the still bare walls of the stairwell. They joined Sarah on the ground around a coffee table where she had already laid out the sandwiches.

"I'm sorry we don't have the table set up yet," apologized Sarah.

"It's alright," assured Tony. "Thank you so much for dinner."

"Never a problem, dear," said Sarah, using yet another pet name, giving Tony the impression that she was a very young version of a grandmother. "Perhaps when we get all settled we can have your parents over as well."

"I don't think so. My dad works a lot."

"Oh, well, then just your mother and you, then."

"My mother died, actually," said Tony, staring at the table.

"Oh dear!" gushed Sarah, her hand flying to her heart, tears pouring out of her eyes as if someone had turned on a facet behind them. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know!"

"It's okay," assured Tony, feeling awkward. "It was almost nine years ago. She was sick."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Tony," said William seriously. "Sarah, why don't you get one of the bottles of juice from the refrigerator?"

Sarah nodded and rushed away from the table, swiping at her eyes as she tried to get her emotions under control.

"So, Steve, Bucky, how old are you?" asked Tony, changing the subject.

"We're both 17," said Steve.

"But I'm a week older," interrupted Bucky smugly.

"What about you?" asked Steve, shoving his brother playfully.

"I'll be 16 in 3 weeks," replied Tony.

"What do you do to celebrate your birthday?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have a party or go out to eat or something special?"

"No," said Tony blankly. "I haven't celebrated in years."

"Why ever not?" demanded Sarah, sitting back down and setting a large bottle of juice in the center of the table.

"I just haven't, I guess," shrugged Tony, failing to see the problem. "What time is it?"

"Almost ten," answered William, consulting his watch.

"I'd better be going," said Tony, trying to hide his sudden panic. "What should I do with the plate?"

"I'll take it, dear," said Sarah, grasping the empty plate.

"Thank you for a lovely dinner," said Tony, rushing to the back door. "It was nice meeting you!"

He ran across the lawn to his house like a shadow, slipping through the back door without a sound. The sink was filled with dirty dishes from his father's dinner. Flinching when he turned on the warm water, he wished the glass didn't clang so much when it moved.

"Boy!" screamed his father at the sound of the water running. "Where have you been?"

"I was just out," said Tony.

"Well, get in here now!"

Tony shut off the water and slowly approached the den where his father was, drinking a beer.

"You were out late," said his father. "You know the rules."

He gestured to the ground near the fireplace. Without a word, Tony rolled his jeans up above his knobby knees, revealing still healing scabs, and knelt down on the grits on the floor. He closed his eyes and began to relive his afternoon in his head to take the mind off the pain. He placed his hands on the wall in front of him so his arms were extended and his head hung under them, protected. A belt smacked against his forearms, raising fresh bruises and welts. He tried to focus on that dinner with the Barnes’ instead of the harsh leather beating into his skin. Eventually, his dad threw him back.

"Get out of my sight!" he hissed.

Tony ran back outside and hurried up the ladder to the only place his father couldn't reach him.


	2. Sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: there is mention of death in this chapter. Nothing graphic, just mentioned.

The next morning Tony sat in the yard, his bruised arms hidden by a black hooded sweatshirt, knees covered in worn, dark denim. He hoped to see Steve and Bucky again, which was the only reason he stayed on the ground when he would have preferred to be in his tree house. His father had driven off to work earlier that morning, leaving the house free for Tony to shower and finish cleaning, which he did in record time. Being in that house always set him on edge.

"Hey, Tony," greeted Steve as he took the trash out. "I was hoping you'd be out here. Mom was wondering if you wanted to join us for breakfast."

"But you gave me dinner last night," said Tony, confused.

"My mom loves feeding people," laughed Steve. “I’d say it’s a problem but I benefit from it, so I’m not concerned.”

"Okay."

"Hey, is that a tree house?" asked Steve, spotting the dangling ladder, more excited than a 17 year old should have been.

"Yes."

"Awesome! I've always wanted a tree house! Did you and your dad build it?"

"No. Part of it was here when we moved in. I built the rest myself."

"That's so cool!" exclaimed Steve, giving him an impressed look. "Can I see it?"

"What about breakfast?"

"It can wait. Please Tony?"

The puppy dog eyes Steve gave him made his resolve waiver.

"Fine," sighed Tony. "Follow me."

He led the way up the ladder. Once on the platform, Steve looked around, impressed by his workmanship.

"Jeez, Tony," he laughed as he spotted the pile of blankets. "What do you do, live up here?"

"Wouldn't you if you had a tree house this cool?" Tony joked back, not denying the truth. "Steve, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," said Steve, smiling a smile that belonged on movie posters, not directed at scrawny new neighbors. "But go ahead, ask another."

"Your mother, is she always so emotional?" asked Tony. “It’s just, last night when I said my mom was dead she sort of freaked out.”

"Tony, you have to understand something about my family," said Steve, turning serious as he ran his hand through his blonde locks. "Life hasn’t exactly been kind to my parents. My birth father died before I was born. He was a pilot in the Air Force and his plane went down while my mom was still pregnant with me. Bucky’s mom died shortly after he was born – some heart condition no one knew about. We moved here because two years ago our sister, Grace, died from cancer. She was about two years older than me. After Grace died, my mom went into a serious depression for about a year. Dad managed to pull her out of it, but we decided a move would be best, someplace away from Grace's memory that seemed to haunt each room."

"That's so sad."

"I love my sister, don't get me wrong, but we all needed this. We needed the physical separation from her to move on with our lives. My parents adopted Grace when she was 8 years old. She was already sick, had been her whole life, and it's so difficult for sick kids to get adopted, but my parents just fell in love with her. I never understood how hard that must have been. Dad adopted me and Mom adopted Bucky when they got married. They had been good friends when they were younger and I’ve never felt like my Dad wasn’t my real father. Bucky and I both knew our original parents loved him, but Grace was abandoned. I can't even imagine. I'm sorry, we barely know each other and I'm already giving you my sob story."

"It's this place," said Tony, nodding at the tree house. "It's a safe place. People are always more open when they can't be touched."

"It is peaceful up here," agreed Steve, taking in the slightly green light filtering through the leaves. "What happened to your arm?"

Tony had reached up to brush his bangs out of his eyes and the sleeve of his large sweater had fallen down to reveal his mottled forearm.

"Oh," said Tony, letting his arm fall. "Nothing."

Steve raised his eyebrows but didn't pursue the question.

"So, breakfast?" said Tony, smiling.

When they walked into the Barnes’ house, Sarah greeted them warmly while helping William put the freshly cooked omelets on plates.

"I'm so glad you could have breakfast with us!" gushed Sarah, clearly recovered from her fit of tears the night before. "We forgot to tell you last night, but you're welcome here any time, of course."

"Thank you," said Tony, touched. "You're really too kind. You barely know me, after all."

"You offered to help us get settled and you didn't know us," countered Bucky, delivering the plates to the bar. "Fair is fair."

Tony smiled and enjoyed his second meal with his new neighbors. Then William set off for his new job and Tony helped Sarah by drying the dishes she washed and putting them away in their new homes.

"Where do you go to school?" asked Sarah, handing Tony a pan.

"Shield High School of Advanced Studies."

"Oh, that's where the boys will be going! How wonderful that they'll know someone. I worry about them transferring school so late in the semester."

"What are they going for?" asked Tony, drying his hands.

Shield High School of Advanced Studies was one of two high schools known for being selective with their students. The students that attended all specialized in some area of either academics, art, theatre, or music. Sarah was so chipper, it was difficult for Tony to ever picture this woman as depressed. Everything seemed to excite her and her joy was catching, so much so that Tony began to relax in her presence.

"Stevie will do art, he's so talented and always creating these wonderful drawings and models," said Sarah, every bit the proud mother. "And Bucky does painting. He so enjoys the colors and has loved to paint on unusual surfaces ever since he was a little boy. Both boys are just so gifted. And what about you, dear? What do you do?"

"I sculpt."

"Marvelous! You'll have to show me your work sometime!"

"Oh mom," sighed Bucky, reentering the room. "Let the poor boy breathe, he just met us."

"I don't mind," said Tony, who was inwardly glowing at all the attention Sarah gave him, soaking it in like a light deprived plant in the sun. "Do you want me to show you the school today?"

"What a great idea!" sang Sarah. "You all have fun and here's some money for lunch."

"Would you like to come with us?" invited Tony shyly as Bucky took the offered money.

"Oh, no, I'm going to finish up putting the house together, but thank you, sweetheart."

"Steve!" yelled Bucky, putting on his shoes near the back door. "We're going out!"

Steve came barreling down the stairs, sounding like an elephant more than a teenage boy. He kissed his mom on the cheek, hopping on one foot, pulling on a massive red sneaker as he did. Tony, in contrast, slipped on his beat up black canvas shoes quietly, smiling at the boy's enthusiasm.

"Where are we going?" inquired Steve.

"School," said Bucky. "Tony's going to show us around."

"Brilliant!"

The three set out, walking in the direction of the school, north of their homes.

"Do you walk to school every day?" asked Bucky, taking the side nearest the street.

"Yes," replied Tony. "It's only a mile and I don't have a car."

"And none of your friends give you a ride?"

"I don't really have a lot of friends."

"Oh, well, we'll drive you to school," offered Steve, looking at all of the houses in interest, taking in the old style and mixed architecture.

"You're dad isn't the greatest parent, is he?" observed Bucky, causing Tony to freeze.

"Why would you say that?" he asked, what little color he had in his face fleeing.

"Well, it's just the way you act," shrugged Bucky, not picking up on the smaller boys panic. "You're jumpy, quiet, you don't have a car, you spent the last day with a family you just met and your dad never once called or asked where you were, so he must be a pretty poor parent."

"He's busy," said Tony tightly, striding forward. "He's just really busy."

"Bucky, leave him alone," whispered Steve.

"He's hiding something!" hissed Bucky, eying Tony’s back.

"Well considering he just met us yesterday, of course he is!"

"I want to know what it is."

"Curb the curiosity for a bit and I'm sure he'll tell you."

Bucky glared, but held his tongue and followed Tony to the school. It was large, intricate, surrounded by a field of asphalt, void of cars until Monday morning.

"Is it unlocked?" asked Steve.

"No," said Tony. "But now you know where it is. And that part with the black roof is the theatre and that is the outdoor café, and those are the main doors."

"Now what?" demanded Bucky, tugging on the red folded bandana that circled his head.

"Can we show him the tree house?" asked Steve eagerly.

"Um, sure," said Tony, only a bit uncertain.

Once they reached the tree house, Tony was sure to pull up the ladder behind them.

"This is incredible!" exclaimed Bucky, lounging on the hammock.

They spent the afternoon munching on sandwiches they had purchased on the walk back from the school, chatting, and relaxing. Time seemed to stand still for them, the worries of the world and starting a new school the next day unable to reach them with the ladder removed.

"Aren't you warm, Tony?" asked Bucky.

"No," said Tony, lying on his back and hugging his hoodie close in spite of the leftover heat from summer that was stubbornly refusing to give way to fall, despite the late month.

"Okay, tell us something we don't know about you," said Steve.

"I'm allergic to artificial smells," admitted Tony.

"Wait, like perfume?"

"Perfume, gas, air fresheners, house paint, anything that is not natural makes me sick to my stomach or pass out."

"That sucks."

"Your turn!"

"I'm terrified of hedgehogs," said Steve to the snickers of his brother. "Bucky."

"I went by my first name, Jamie, when I was younger until my teacher called my name and didn't believe it was me," said Bucky. "She thought Jamie was a girl and she sent me to the principal's office for being a wise guy. That's when I switched to my middle name, Bucky."

"Jamie can be a girls name," laughed Tony, holding his sides.

"I was little!" said Bucky defensively. "It's a family name – not even that uncommon - my birth dad named me that, I didn't know it was a girl's name at the time."

"Okay, okay," chuckled Steve. "You're up, Tony."

"Um, I don't know."

"Well, why don't you tell us about school?"

"What about school do you want to know?"

"Why don't you have many friends there?" asked Bucky bluntly, receiving a warning glare from his brother as a reward.

"People think I'm strange, so they don't like to be seen with me,” said Tony with a shrug. “It also doesn’t help that I was young for my grade and then skipped ahead a bit, so now I’m a senior who should be a freshman. Your turn, Steve."

They continued on, sharing trivial facts, devouring a tray of brownies, and whiling away the Sunday afternoon. For Tony, it was as close to joy as he could remember. Steve was sweet and intuitive, if loud, never pushing topics Tony appeared uncomfortable with while Bucky was blunt, honest, but fiercely loyal. Tony didn't hear a single negative thing from him all afternoon. They were open, sharing about their sister and old life, and in turn, Tony allowed them little peeps into his world.

"I had a brother, too," Tony confided. "His name was Edwin Jarvis Stark, but everyone called him Jarvis. He was a year older than me, but when I was three, he contracted meningitis and died."

"I'm sorry," said Bucky.

"Me too," sighed Tony. "I miss him, but I don't feel sad about it anymore. He's with mom, so they are both happy. Sometimes I wonder what type of person he would be like today."

"How did your mom die, if you don't mind my asking?"

"She was sick," replied Tony, his cold tone making it clear that he wanted it left there for the time being.

"What do people normally wear to school?" asked Steve, stepping in.

"Just clothes," shrugged Tony. "It's an arts and sciences school, so people wear all sorts of things. What you guys have on right now is fine."

"It's almost dinner time," commented Bucky, glancing at his watch.

"Oh no!" gasped Tony, sitting bolt upright. "I have to get his dinner ready!"


	3. Pictures of Him

"Get who's dinner ready?" asked Bucky, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

Tony kicked the ladder back over the edge of the platform and climbed down with impressive speed that came from years of practice. In reality, Tony no longer required the ladder to get up or down the tree, he used it now out of habit. He could easily scale it without assistance and sometimes would, but that was not something his new neighbors needed to know about him. 

The brothers followed him down and then into his house like little ducklings. The kitchen had warm yellow walls like muted sunshine and dark cherry wood cabinets with black marble counters. Tony hated the walls, they were too bright in his opinion, but he loved the marble counters that were perpetually cool to his touch. He rushed about throwing a tray of lasagna he had prepared the day before into the oven, willing it to heat faster than he knew it would, mentally imagining what he could do to improve the heating quality of the oven.

"What are you guys doing here?" demanded Tony, spotting his new friends looking about curiously.

"Just looking around," said Steve. "Do you need help? I like the walls, but I think they would be better blue."

"No," said Tony, smiling tightly as he glanced at the door out of the kitchen, pushing his brown hair out of his face. "You guys should go see if your mom needs help making dinner."

"She won't need us for a while," shrugged Bucky, leaning casually against the door frame to the living room.

"Okay," said Tony, his nerves skyrocketing when he spotted his father's car pulling up the driveway. "Then why don't I show you the rest of the house?"

He hustled the boys out of the kitchen, pointing out various rooms on the ground floor, talking a mile a minute, before rushing them up the stairs.

"And this is my room!" he exclaimed, showing them his bedroom.

It was dark blue, almost black, with a perfectly made bed that had a hot rod red bedspread, organized walk in closet that didn't seem to have many clothes occupying it, and large filled bookshelf. It was so clean it almost looked like a room from a magazine, unlived in, and it held a lack of personal effects to accommodate that image.

"There's a secret passage hidden in here," he said. "Why don't you guys look for it while I go and check on the food?"

Without waiting for an answer, Tony sprinted back out of the room, flying down the stairs. His father was just slamming the back door open as Tony pulled the steaming pasta out of the oven.

"Is that my dinner?" his father demanded.

"Yes sir," said Tony, stepping aside for him to inspect it, casting an uneasy look at the ceiling as if he could see the boys in his room through the floor.

"Why isn't it on a plate like it's supposed to be?" his father demanded, his voice like gravel crunching under the tires of a loaded down pick-up truck.

"Because it just finished heating," explained Tony, grabbing a plate from the cupboard near the oven as he spoke. "I'm putting it on a plate now, though."  
His father grumbled but went to the sink to wash his hands.

"Tony, is this a picture of Jarvis?" asked Steve, walking back into the kitchen, holding a framed photo that he had found hiding in the bookshelf in Tony's bedroom.

Tony closed his eyes as he set a slice of lasagna on a gunmetal grey ceramic plate.

"Who are you?" demanded his father, staring at the tall stranger in his kitchen.

"This is Steve," said Tony, running between his father and new friend, forming an inefficient barrier with his slight form.

"And I'm Bucky," announced Bucky, emerging behind his brother. "You must be Tony's father."

"What are they doing here?"

"They just moved in next door," said Tony in a rush, his voice breathless sounding. "They go to my school."

"Is that a picture of-" began his father.

"Steve, put the picture down," hissed Tony, his brown eyes never leaving his father's steadily reddening face.

"I told you never to bring him up with me!" roared his father.

"I know!" cried Tony, his hands going up as if to show how unarmed he was. "I'm sorry, they didn't know, it won't happen again."

The brothers looked on in shock. Steve quickly shoved the frame into his back pocket, thanking the inventor of boy jeans for adding pockets that were so deep they could practically reach the moon.

"Get out!" screamed his father, pointing towards the back door. "It should have been you! The wrong one died that night! It should have been you!"

Tony and the boys escaped out the back door, panting as if they had just run a mile, gathering under the tree house tree. It took them several minutes to recover.

"I'm sorry about that," said Tony, scuffing his feet on the ground. "I should have warned you not to mention my brother in front of my dad, it's kind of a touchy subject with him. Well, I guess I should be going. You're going to want to get back to your family. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Tony," said Steve, causing the smaller boy to pause in his turn back to the house they had recently fled. "We're still driving you."

Bucky hugged Tony, surprising both Tony and Steve because Bucky was not generally a touchy feely person and Tony wasn't used to physical contact of that sort. For a split second, Tony tensed up waiting for a blow, but then he relaxed in Bucky's grip, leaning his head against the taller boy's muscled chest.

"I'm sorry," Tony muttered. "You don't have to put up with me, I'll understand."

"Let's go have dinner at our house tonight," said Bucky, letting go and leading the way across the green barrier, towing Tony and Steve behind him.

"Wait,” said Tony, digging his feet into the ground.

"What?" asked Steve, both boys staring at him as if he was crazy.

"You aren't going to tell your parents about this, are you?" asked Tony, his face desperate.

"Tony, I don't think it's smart for you to be around him," said Steve slowly.

"Please," begged Tony.

"He doesn't, like, hit you or anything, does he?" said Bucky, eyeing Tony carefully.

"He just has a temper," said Tony, not quite answering the question. "You can understand how hard it is for a parent to lose a child because you've seen it. And then mom on top of it, it was just too much for him. He's not right in the head, I'll give you that, but he needs me to take care of him. Please."

"Okay," sighed Bucky, running his hand through his thick dark hair. "We'll keep quiet for now. But Tony, I really would rather you stay with us for the night. I think we made things worse on accident, bringing up Jarvis."

"No, I don't want your parents to get suspicious. Don't worry about me, I can handle him. I'll just wait until he goes to sleep. He'll have forgotten by morning."

"If you say so," said Steve, not looking convinced but wanting to believe him more than anything. "Let's go have dinner now."

But the way he said it made it sound like, "Let's go forget this ever happened."


	4. Survive

After dinner with the Barnes’ Tony went to his tree house and spent the night there, rising extra early to slip into the house as soon as his father left for work. He showered and toweled his hair dry leaving, it messy and falling into his face. He had long since quit trying to make his hair lie flat. Then he slipped on an old band shirt, favorite red hoodie, and black jeans. His cheek bones were naturally flushed and gave him the look of perpetually smiling while his eyes glimmered with excitement. He picked up his black backpack that was more tape than backpack and rushed down stairs and out into the back lawn to wait for Steve and Bucky to be ready for school. Unlike most teenagers, school was Tony's favorite part of the day.

"Tony, darling!" called Sarah from the back door, looking around the yards.

"Hello, Sarah," said Tony, walking over.

"Are you hungry, dear?" asked Sarah, letting Tony into the house.

"No, I'm fine, but thank you," said Tony, fidgeting uneasily when he couldn't see the boys in the kitchen. "Are Steve and Bucky ready?"

"Almost!" called Bucky from the front room.

Soon, Steve and Bucky were ready to leave. Sarah took pictures of her sons individually, together, and then with Tony as if it was their first day of school ever and not the middle of semester, before kissing each one on the head and tearing up when they walked out the door.

"Your mom is so nice," said Tony, a hint of jealousy coloring his voice as he buckled himself into the front seat of Bucky's truck.

"She is," agreed Steve. "And she adores you.

Tony practically glowed at that notion; he was quickly falling in love with that family and responding to their love and caring attitude like a flower in the sun. It was always spoiled before he could get too attached, but for the moment Tony wanted to pretend that this time would be different; it was just his nature even as his common sense told him to be careful. The drive to school was filled with energetic conversation as the boys discussed what they thought the school would be like. When they arrived, the parking lot was quickly filling up, so Bucky grabbed the first spot he found and the three joined the sea of students flowing through the double doors. Since the brothers already had their schedules and locker numbers, Tony helped them get settled, showing them where each was.

"We have all the same classes," laughed Steve, comparing all their schedules.

"Well, there aren't many classes for us to choose from," explained Tony. "They kind of lump all the art students together no matter what they are actually good at, something about wanting us to be rounded or whatever."

"Hello!" said a petite blonde girl who had sparkling white teeth and a skirt that played peek-a-boo with her butt. "I'm Katie! You're new, aren't you?"

"No, actually, my name is Bucky, easily confused with New," said Bucky, being both snarky and suave in one go.

"You're funny!" laughed Katie, her tone tinkling as if a champagne glass shattered.. "Do you need help finding your classes?"

"I think we're set," said Steve, shooting her one of his all American smiles. "Tony here has the same classes as us, so he can show us."

"Oh, you don't really want to hang out with him," smiled Katie. "He's nice, but a little strange if you know what I mean."

Tony scowled at his feet. Katie had never liked him; the blonde was a music student and anyone who didn't sing or play an instrument was beneath her, unless they were a football player or dressed like a bad boy, in which case his place was worshipping at her feet. How she got into the school was beyond Tony, but she did.

"I don't know what you mean, actually," said Bucky flatly, crossing muscled arms, his face unimpressed.

"Well, he's just quiet and fidgety, like a squirrel. And he's so small!"

"He's also standing right here," said Steve, giving the blonde a disapproving look, throwing an arm around Tony's thin shoulders.

"It was mildly unpleasant to meet you," said Bucky as the bell rang.

"She's a piece of work," commented Steve as the three walked to their first class.

Tony grinned to himself. Having Steve and Bucky around was more fun than he thought it would be.

Inside their first classroom, Tony sat down in a middle row with Steve and Bucky on either side. There were no desks, just large tables that seated six.

"Hi, Tony," greeted a rugged perky boy who had hair the color of a sunshine in June. "I didn't know you had body guards."

"They aren't body guards," said Tony, giving the boy a cocky grin. "This is Steve and Bucky Rogers-Barnes. They just moved here. Steve, Bucky, this is Clint Barton."

"I love your hair," exclaimed Clint, reaching over and petting Bucky's fluffy hair like one would pet a rabbit or dog. "Oh, it's so soft!"

"Um, thanks," said Bucky, a bit uncomfortably.

"Sorry, Clint doesn't really have a sense of personal boundaries," explained Tony. "He's also a bit random, but you'll get used to him."

"Who are they?" demanded a harsh voice.

Steve and Tony turned to find a tall, dark clothed, strongly built black boy with short black hair and threatening eyes glaring at them. He turned his glower towards   
Tony, who surprisingly didn't flinch at the glare the way he normally did when people looked at him.

"Steve, Bucky, this is Rhodey," introduced Tony, grinning up at Rhodey as though he hung the moon. "Rhodey, these are my new neighbors Steve and Bucky Roger-Barnes. Please don't shoot them."

Rhodey sized them up for a full minute before speaking to Clint.

"Clint, did you show Tony the new painting you did on your locker?" asked Rhodey.

"No," said Clint, jumping up and grabbing Tony's arm. "Tony, come on! You have to see! It's so awesome!"

He pulled Tony out of the room before the poor boy could protest.

"Now," began Rhodey, leaning in towards the two new boys over the table. "I want to know what you are doing associating with Tony."

"He's our friend," said Bucky, sneering at the intimidating boy, standing up so they were eye level. "He's also our neighbor and he's showing us around."

"Nothing else?" demanded Rhodey.

"How is it any of your business, anyway?"

"Because I'm not stupid!" hissed Rhodey. "And I will not have you two making his life more complicated than it already is."

"Wait," said Steve, holing up a hand. "You already know about…his dad?"

"I've known Tony since he moved here eight years ago," said Rhodey. "I know a lot more than he is even aware I know. So yes, I know about his father, and I will not have you two goons running in, mucking everything up, and putting him in more danger."

"More danger?" asked Bucky, suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"Good morning miniature adults!" greeted the teacher, a stout man who waddled when he walked and glasses so think no one knew if his eyes were on them or elsewhere, ending the conversation.

Tony and Clint rushed in and took their seats as class began. Meanwhile, on either side of Tony, his new friends stewed over what his old friend had said. Steve decided to let it go; Tony said his father was ill and that was good enough for him. Bucky decided to pursue it further. He hated a mystery and that the Rhodey kid was interesting. He appreciated the hostile manner, it was refreshing from most of the people he knew who just fawned over his good looks and soft hair. He glanced at Rhodey where he sat across from Tony and compared the two. Rhodey, it seemed, had become hostile and scary to survive high school while Tony, who could be snarky, was willing to be a doormat in order to blend into the background and attract as little attention as possible. Tony wasn't sure which road was better.


	5. Closet Talks

"Wait, Rhodey!" called Bucky, chasing after the dark haired boy as the lunch bell sounded, weaving between students and teachers alike.

"No," said Rhodey in a bored tone. "If you want to talk to me, you have to go at my pace."

"Fine," grumbled Bucky under his breath, catching up with him and falling in step with his long strides. "Now, I want to talk to you about Tony's dad."

"You're an idiot!" hissed Rhodey, grabbing Bucky’s arm and dragging him into a supply closet.

"What are we doing in here?" asked Bucky, a bit apprehensive as Rhodey slammed the door.

"You can't just go around asking about Tony's dad in front of everyone!" yelled Rhodey, advancing on him. "You are so stupid, you know that?"

"Well I'm sorry!" replied Bucky, just as angrily. "Why don't you explain all of these rules you seem to have about Tony now so I quit breaking them!"

"Here's The Rule- stay the hell away from him!"

"I'll bet you're the reason why he hasn't got any friends at this place."

"Don't you dare say that, ever!” growled Rhodey. “I'm the reason he hasn't been torn to bits here! People are mean and in case you hadn't noticed, he doesn't fit in. 

They know what happened to his mom and they say all sorts of things about it, blame him, make everything worse. You have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"Wait, what happened to his mom? I thought she was sick and died. Why would people blame Tony for that?"

"You really know nothing about him," said Rhodey, shaking his head and softening his tone just a fraction so it no longer sounded like he was going to murder Bucky but maiming was a possibility.

"I've only known him for two days," said Bucky defensively, folding his muscled arms.

"Well then let's start with what you do know, which can't be a lot, so it will be quicker."

"I know that his brother died when Tony was three," said Bucky, trying to show off his knowledge. "I know his mom died almost nine years ago because she was sick. I know his dad is a jerk and says terrible things to Tony. I know his favorite color is red and he's allergic to artificial smells. I know he's rather quiet but helpful and he always seems surprised when people do anything nice for him. And that's about it."

"Well, that tells me more than it doesn't," said Rhodey, leaning against the wall thoughtfully. "Lunch is almost over, so I don't have time to explain, plus, I think Tony should do most of the explaining."

"Do you think he will?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"Because he already told you more than most people who have known him for the past eight years of his life know about him. For some strange reason he's taken a liking to you and your brother and that's the thing about Tony, he knows better and he steers clear of most people but he really does want friends. He's just too flighty for most people."

The bell sounded, signaling the end of the lunch period.

"I'll see you after school," said Rhodey.

He walked out of the closet before Bucky could stop him. By the time Bucky made it out, Rhodey was already lost in the sea of people.

"Bucky!" called his brother, waving at him with Tony in tow. "You missed lunch! Where were you, it was like you disappeared."

"I just got to talking to Rhodey," shrugged Bucky, seeing no reason to lie about the conversation, weaving his way over to his friends.

"I'm sorry about him," apologized Tony. "He comes off as mean but he is one of the best friends a person could have."

"You mean he's an asshole but you get used to it," nodded Bucky, his mind still in the closet.

"Kind of like you, Buck," grinned Steve, clapping his meaty hand on his brother's back with a hearty laugh.

"Come on, we're going to be late for our next class," said Tony, tugging on Steve's sleeve and leading the way down the hall.

When the final bell of the day rang, Tony, Steve, and Bucky all gathered at Tony's locker, which he had painted to look like a robot.

"So, how did you like your first day here?" asked Tony, stalling the moment when he would have to go home.

"It was fine," replied Steve nonchalantly. "This school if pretty active and the people all seemed nice. I really think I'm going to like advanced art class."

"It was interesting," said Bucky, scanning the crowd for Rhodey.

"Hey Tony," said Rhodey, walking up from the opposite direction that Bucky was looking. "Ready to go?"

"Oh, right," said Tony, looking guilty. "I forgot, but Bucky drove me to school today, and I figured that since lives right next door, he might give me a ride home."

"Of course I will," said Bucky, confused as to why Tony thought he might not give him a ride home.

"That's fine," said Rhodey, glaring at Bucky. "I'll just ride with you, if you don't mind."

"You're coming over today?" said Tony, a smile lighting up his face.

"Please, Tony, you sound like Clint," moaned Rhodey, covering his ears. "Yes, I'm coming over today."

"Yay!" cheered Tony. "Bucky, do you mind terribly if Rhodey comes with us? If you do, we can just walk, it's not a big deal. We were going to walk anyway."

"No, it's fine if he comes with us," said Bucky, taking the opportunity to make peace with seemingly the most important of Tony's almost nonexistent friends. "Let's go."

The ride to the Barnes’ house was uneventful. As soon as the car was in park, Tony and Rhodey hopped out and headed towards Tony's yard.

"Wait!" called Steve. "Don't you guys want a snack?"

"What are we, five?" snarked Rhodey over his shoulder.

"My mom always makes after school snacks," shrugged Steve, unfazed by Rhodey's attitude. "Plus, she'll be dying to know how today went."

"Okay," said Tony wanting to make his new neighbors happy, tugging Rhodey back to the boy's yard. "Rhodey, you have got to meet their mother. She is the nicest person I have ever met. Her name is Sarah and she makes the best meals I have ever had!"

Rhodey shook his head at his younger friend’s enthusiasm and regretted even more that he had to be away all weekend. If he had just been free last weekend, none of this would have happened.

"Hello, darlings!" greeted Sarah when the teens walked through the back door.

The sweet aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafted out to greet them like a hug, pulling them in and holding them close.

"How was your day at school?" asked Sarah, setting a plate of warm cookies onto the kitchen table, along with glasses of milk.

"It was fine," said Steve, digging in to the cookies with great enthusiasm. "Mom, this is Rhodey, he's a friend of Tony's."

"It wonderful to meet you, Rhodey," said Sarah, smiling at the new boy.

"It's nice to meet you too," replied Rhodey politely, inclining his head. "I'm sorry to intrude like this."

"Not at all! The boy's friends are always welcome. Please, help yourself to a cookie."

Sarah quizzed her son's and their friends about their day at school, how their classes went, who they met, what the teachers were like, everything under the sun, until at last she was satisfied and released them to do their homework and go about their teenagerly business. By some unspoken agreement, they all made their way up to Tony's tree house.

"Tony," said Rhodey once the ladder was pulled up and everyone settled. "I think you should tell the boys."

Rhodey was clearly not one to waste time beating around the bush.

"Tell them what?" asked Tony innocently, fiddling with his hoodie strings, leaning against the wall of the tree house, the dark wood contrasting with his pale skin nicely.

"You know what," said Rhodey with a look that meant he would not put up with and of Tony's nonsense. "At least the fluffy haired one. He's nosy and will find out regardless, so it's best that he hears it from you and not some random person at school, like Katie."

Tony made a face of disgust at the blonde haired girl’s name. Bucky studied the smaller boy, remembering what Rhodey had told him earlier that day. Tony wanted friends, he wanted to trust people, and he wanted people to care, but from what Bucky had seen and heard Tony did not make friends well. Looking at the boy now, Bucky could tell he was teetering on the verge of sharing something about his life to two boys he had only known for three days. The only conclusion Bucky could come up with was that Tony really was that desperate for friends if he was going to share this quick.

"Fine," Tony sighed, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging them close. "But honestly, I think you are making a way bigger deal about this than you need to, Rhodey. I would have told them eventually on my own but whatever. Steve, Bucky, I need to apologize to you both. I didn't exactly lie to you but I also didn't tell you the whole truth and I'm sorry. I'm not very good at opening up to people, if you hadn't guessed."

"You don't have to tell us anything if you don't want to," said Steve gently. "We'll understand."

"The thing is, Rhodey is right," sighed Tony, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "Even if I don't tell you, you're going to find out if you keep hanging out with me at school. I really rather you heard the correct version first."

"Correct version of what?" asked Bucky, curiosity burning within him as he leaned forward to hear better.

"Rule number one," announced Rhodey, shoving Bucky back slightly. "No questions until the end, so shut up!"

"The correct version of how my mother died," said Tony.


	6. The Real Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Talks of suicide and depression.

"The first thing you have to understand," said Tony, his voice soft, right hand running through his soft locks in a vain attempt to dispel nervous energy, "Is that I didn't lie when I said my mom was sick. She was very sick, for about as long as I can remember, really. Ever since my brother died, she was different. Most days she just stayed in bed and dad told me to play quietly and not bother her. Normally he'd just send me outside, calling me a terror, always moving and destroying, never still or silent, which is what my mother needed - silent. She cried often. Dad spent all the time he wasn't working trying to help her, but she didn't get better. I think she just lost the will to live. I understand now that she was seriously depressed, but at the time I didn't know why she was acting so strange. The death of my brother hit her hard, like it did for your mother I’m sure, but my mom never got over it. Her depression only got worse as time went on. I tried to be enough for her, but I wasn't, and it showed. I wasn't my brother.

"That was the thing about Jarvis," said Tony with a soft smile of remembrance. "My mother did love me, it's not like she favored Jarvis or anything. Jarvis wasn't the world to my mother, but he was what held the world together and without him, my mom couldn't seem to hold her world in place anymore.

"I was at school that day," continued Tony, his hand again finding his hair to rake through it. "Dad was at work. I got home and wanted to show my mom the 100 I had received on my math test so I went to her room, but she wasn't there. I searched the entire house but couldn't find her, so I went to the forbidden room, my brother's room. They had kept it exactly as it had been the day my brother died. Time stood still in that room and I was not allowed in because I would mess it up. Sometimes I would sneak in there late at night just to look, just to confirm that Jarvis really had existed and he wasn't just a figment of my imagination since my parents didn't like to talk about him.

"The door was locked that day, which was strange. My mom did love me, she didn't mean for me to find her, she just didn't know I had taken a spare key and hidden it in my room, just in case they ever tried to lock my brother's room away forever. So, I unlocked the door and found her on my brother's blue and black bed. She'd left a note, but I didn't read it right away. I ran to my room and hid under the bed. Maybe I could have saved her, I don't know, but I was young and scared. Dad got home an hour later, found her, and things went quickly after that. When the funeral was over, my dad moved us here, but like my mom, he never got over the deaths of his wife and son. But I learned from my mom, so I try to help and make his life easier. I think sometimes it's just too hard for him to see me because I remind him of them.

"I didn't kill my mother," said Tony, looking at Steve and Bucky but sounding like he was trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. "But people say I did, I don't know why. Maybe it's because I don't say a lot to most people, maybe it's because I didn't do anything when I found her, but my mom killed herself. It wasn't my fault."

Tears began trickling out of the corner of his eyes, he pulled his hood up, and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to get a hold of his emotions. Rhodey said nothing, just sat back and pulled Tony under his arm. Steve stared on in disbelief, Bucky in disgust, wishing to strangle Tony's already dead mother for abandoning her only living child.

"Don't hate her," said Tony quietly, his eyes meeting Bucky’s.

"What?" said Bucky, taken aback.

"I can see it on your face, you're starting to hate my mother. Don't. She was sick and not in her right mind. Life got too hard for her to face anymore, but don't hate her."

"She left you," hissed Bucky, his anger at a woman he'd never met rising.

"She needed to get away."

"Don't make excuses for her! She had a choice and she chose to leave you! Mothers don't leave their kids! It's not right."

"Just stop," said Rhodey harshly.

"No!" yelled Bucky. "That's so selfish of her!"

"Bucky, please," said Tony, placing his pale hand on Bucky's tough arm.

Instantly, Bucky looked ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Tony," he apologized. "I guess it just really bothers me because it makes me see how close I came to losing my own mother for the same reasons."

"I'm happy you didn't," said Tony with a small smile. "You're very lucky."

"Wait, what?" said Rhodey, confused, looking between Tony, Bucky, and Steve.

"Our sister died from cancer two years ago," explained Steve, the more even tempered of the two boys. "Our mom went into a depression for a year after, but managed to pull out of it."

"I'm sorry," said Rhodey, looking at his black combat boots. "Bucky, I shouldn't have snapped."

"Neither should I," replied Bucky, sighing. "But now we both know why we did. I did because of my mom, you did because of Tony."

"Is there anything else you want to tell them, Tony?" asked Rhodey, moving on from the apologies that made him uncomfortable.

"Not right now," said Tony, his hood still covering his hair. "But now you know."

Steve wanted to hug him, not knowing what to say, but Tony didn't strike him as a touchy feely type of person and persnickety about his personal space, so Steve just sat.

"People suck," declared Bucky, leaning back against the rough wooden wall.

"Finally, something I can agree with you on," said Rhodey.

"He likes you!" laughed Tony, bouncing back from his emotional breakdown with practiced ease at made Bucky question how much of it was an act and how much of his happiness was real.

Bucky just shook his head. He couldn't decide how he felt about Tony's dark headed friend, but he appreciated how protective the boy was. It seemed that Tony needed it more than he had been originally aware.

"I don't like him," corrected Rhodey. "I just agree with him that people suck."

He pushed Tony playfully on the arm gently but Tony still winced a little.

"Tony," said Rhodey, his eyes flashing. "You know our deal."

"You were busy," muttered Tony, studying the dirty wooden floor as if the grain was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

"You know our deal," repeated Rhodey firmly. "Now let me see."

"No."

"Anthony."

"Later?"

"Fine."

"What's going on?" asked Steve, looking between Tony and Rhodey, trying to work out what was not being said and what Tony was trying to hide.

"Sometimes, you're really thick, Steve," said Bucky, shaking his head.

Tony looked at him his brown eyes wide, alarm racing across his face as the realization that Bucky knew fell into place. Bucky stared back, his face cool. He knew, and to say that he was not pleased was an understatement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the heavy chapter but I needed to address it. It's a serious matter. If you are struggling with thoughts of suicide, talk to someone, anyone. Me if you don't feel like you can talk to someone else. 
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	7. Let's Make a Deal

"Tony!" came a harsh whisper from down below, weaving its way around the trunk of the tree, through the branches, and into his hidden fortress.

The sun had set hours ago, Tony had said goodbye to his friends for the night and he had assumed everyone had gone to sleep which was why he had snuck back up to his tree house. He was reading by the light of his electric lantern when that familiar voice broke through the leaves to his ears.

"Tony, I know you're up there! Let down the ladder or I'm going to start shouting for real!"

Tony sighed but kicked the ladder off the edge of the porch, secretly laughing at how the request made it sound like he was that princess with the long hair in a tower, whatever her name was. His mom had told him that story years ago and the details - like most things that had to do with his mom - were fuzzy at best. A few minutes later, Bucky's head popped over the side.

"What's up?" asked Tony as brightly as he could manage.

"Why are you still up here?" asked Bucky, making himself as comfortable as possible on the wooden planks.

"I was just enjoying the night for a bit before I go inside to sleep," said Tony, shrugging. "You?"

"I saw a light through the branches and wanted to check on you."

"Oh, well, consider me checked on."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, the natural night sounds rushing in the fill the air, bugs chattering away, a stray car rolling through the streets, a dog barking, two cats having a fight, and that ever present wind that whistled through the trees.

"What's on your face?" demanded Bucky suddenly.

"Nothing," said Tony, turning away, trying to let the shadow from his raised hood cover his face from view.

Bucky was quicker and slipped a hand under his chin, gently but firmly forcing his face back into the light of the lantern, pushing the hood down with his other hand as he went. He studied Tony's face for a minute that seemed more like an hour, not saying a word until he let go.

"Nothing has hands?" he asked mildly, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not a big deal," insisted Tony, panic settling in to the pit of his stomach, the gears in his mind turning as he sought a way to talk himself out of the situation.

"Your dad hurts you," said Bucky.

The statement sat there, settling between them on the worn wooden boards, boldly daring Tony to deny it.

"He's not well," said Tony quietly, as if that made it all better, as if that excused his father's actions.

"You don't have to fix him," said Bucky just as softly. "You don't have to live like this."

"You don't get to tell me what to do," said Tony, his voice deathly still. "You barely know me, you met me last weekend, you have no control over me. Yes, I've told you a bit about my life, yes I told you about my mother, but that doesn't make you the boss of me. I only told you about my life because you guys were talking about yours and you bothered asking, something most people don't do. And I only shared about my mom because Rhodey made me. And you can't report it. My dad's a cop, no one would believe you. Trust me, Rhodey already tried that."

"I wasn't going to report anything," said Bucky, looking surprised.

"Then why are you here? I know you already guessed it this afternoon, maybe even suspected before."

"Perhaps I wanted my guess confirmed."

"Well now it has been, so just leave."

"Tony, I'm not trying to upset you," said Bucky, his tone turning intense. "I want to help you."

He looked at the smaller boy with such sincerity that Tony almost believed him; he wanted to believe him.

"You can't help," said Tony so softly the wind almost snatched it away before Bucky's keen hearing caught it. "He's bigger than you and smarter."

"How about we make a deal?"

"I already have one of those with Rhodey, I don't think I need to make another."

"What's your deal with Rhodey, then?"

"When he hits me, I have to tell Rhodey. In return he keeps quiet and makes sure no one suspects at school, so he brings make-up. Which is girly, I know, but whatever."

"Well then how about we make a similar deal? Obviously not the make-up bit, but you tell me when it happens and I sneak out here and bring you ice or whatever else you need."

"What do you get out of the deal?" asked Tony, suspicious of anyone, especially anyone who was trying to help him for no apparent reason.

"The same that Rhodey does, I get to stay informed."

"And you promise you won't tell anyone? You won't tell your parents or Steve?"

"I won't tell anyone, not even Steve," swore Bucky solemnly.

Tony stared hard at him, measuring his nerve. He had only known this boy for three days, but he already figured out what was going on with his father, so what   
choice did he really have?

"Fine."

They shook on it.

"Here," said Bucky, opening up the small back pack he had on his back with a sly smile and pulling out an ice pack. "I thought you might need this."

Tony's eyes welled up with tears.

"What is wrong with me?" he asked aloud, his voice unnaturally choked. "I never cry like this."

"You just aren't used to people caring about you," shrugged Bucky as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tony shook his head which dislodged some tears with the movement, brown hair catching the light and looking like strands of coffee attached to his head.

Bucky gathered Tony into his arms with a soft sigh. He felt Tony tense up for a moment and in that moment something in his being shifted, making room for the boy he held, hating any one or thing that would set Tony so on edge constantly, knowing he would do anything he could to help Tony now that he saw through the façade Tony put on to keep everyone from wondering what went on at home. Tony went out of his way to make people who talked to him feel like they knew all there was to know about him because then they wouldn't look for the bruises or jumps at physical contact, they wouldn't notice the fact that they really knew so little. In his small world, Bucky cared for few people, having been disillusioned by the suffering his sister went through and disheartened by the judgments people passed on his family for being adopted, but he - like Rhodey - found his cool exterior melting to this undersized boy with startlingly brown eyes and perpetually messy dark hair for no discernible reason. As Tony relaxed into his grip, Bucky placed his head softly on top of the younger boy’s and pulled him closer, keeping Tony from falling apart by holding him together.


	8. Don't Scream

Tony slipped back inside his house early the next morning. His father hadn't left for the day yet but Tony needed the extra time to shower and start laundry. After years of practice he ghosted around, sliding in and out of rooms, cleaning and gather laundry as he went. Then when that was finished he showered quickly. Relishing in the warm water that ran over his body until - too quickly - it was over and he was toweling his short hair dry. A grey long sleeved shirt and black skinny jeans would suffice for his outfit, he would toss on his favorite hoodie later, and he ran down to the kitchen to pop bread into the toaster. While that warmed he threw the first load of laundry into the washer and started it up.

"Where's my breakfast?" demanded his father, marching into the kitchen much like a knight would march into a duel he knew he would win.

Tuesdays were Howard’s day to come in late and often it resulted in a fit over breakfast. Always over something. Tony hated Tuesdays most of all.

"Right here," he said brightly, hopping over to the toaster, pulling out the toast, buttering it and placing it on a plate next to an already poured cup of coffee.

"Well, give it to me!"

Tony handed Howard the plate and jumped out of reach. He hovered anxiously next to the toaster knowing he was not dismissed until his father either left or told Tony to leave. It was still too early for the neighbors to be awake enough to hear and Tony certainly did not want to start anything.

"Why is there no bacon?" Howard screamed, a string of spit landing on Tony's face.

"We are out of bacon," whispered Tony, anticipating the oncoming fit.

His father let out a bellow of rage and began throwing things like a three year old who had been told he would get no sweets that day. Tony sank down and covered his head, waiting for it to pass, flinching every time something hit him. At last his father seemed to wear himself out and settled down to eat his toast once more.   
Tony took the lull to quickly set the kitchen back in order, grab his backpack, and run out the door.

It was still too early for him to expect the Barnes’s to be awake so he contented himself with going back to the ladder to read more of his book in the tree house. He didn't even make it a rung up when he had to step back and look at his hands. At some point during his father's tirade, he'd managed to throw a knife at Tony, which had bitten deeply into his right hand, leaving a gash he was sure needed stitches in his palm.

"Well that's a first," he said quietly to no one in particular - no one was ever there.

Howard had never thrown a knife before.

Still, Tony needed to get up that ladder so he went about the painful business of climbing up at a slower pace than normal. When he reached the top he didn't even bother pulling the rope ladder up after him, instead focusing on not bleeding on his shirt or pants and turning on his walkie talkie.

"Hey?" he said, his voice tentative, uncertainty lacing the single syllable word.

Static replied to him loudly.

He tried pressing the call button then.

"Hello?" came the bleary response.

"Hey, sorry," said Tony. "I swear I wouldn't bother you this early normally but-"

"It's fine," yawned Bucky. "That's why I gave you the walkie talkie. I'll be over in a few."

"Thanks," said Tony, setting down the device, still unsure that calling had been a smart idea but in all honesty a mad Bucky scared him almost as much as his father on a normal day.

The night before, after he had calmed down some, Bucky had given him several items and even more instructions.

"This walkie talkie will always be on me," said Bucky, handing Tony the matching one. "I got a friend from my old home to fix them up before I moved, so they won't be so obnoxious. Anyway, you use that to call me any time I'm not with you. I don't care what time it is, if you need anything, just call, I'm a pretty light sleeper, so I'll wake up. And if anything happens I want to know right away. If you so much as get a paper cut I had better hear my walkie talkie going off. Understand?"

"Yes," said Tony.

"Good. Now, here are some snacks and this is bug spray. I hate bugs, so please keep it up here for my sake."

Tony smiled at the memory; bugs didn't bother him.

"You have got to be kidding me," said Bucky, hoisting himself onto the platform, his eyes automatically drawn to the gash on Tony's hand.

"Good morning to you, sunshine," replied Tony, trying to lighten the mood.

Bucky, it appeared, was never a morning person.

"Please tell me this isn't normal," said Bucky, already opening his first aid kit. "Because if this is normal, I swear to god, Tony, I can't stay quiet."

"He's never thrown a knife at me before," said Tony quickly, not quite answering the question.

"He threw a knife?" screamed Bucky, his dark hair flying as he whipped his head around, glare falling on Tony.

"Please don't be mad!" said Tony, alarm filling his eyes as he scooted away from the older boy.

Bucky took a deep, calming breath, attempting in vain to settle his emotions. It would take some getting used to for him to keep his temper in check and remember how easily Tony scared. Bucky was already regretting his promise not to tell anyone what was happening but he also didn't see what good it would do. Like Tony had said, his dad was a cop and Rhodey had already tried that course of action, to no avail.

"You need stitches," commented Bucky, moving to clean the wound with a foul smelling liquid.

"I know," said Tony, his eyes downcast.

"If you promise not to scream, I can do that here," said Bucky, his voice low, anger barely concealed.

"What?"

"When we adopted my sister, we all took first aid courses just in case anything happened," explained Bucky. "I spent so much time at the hospital I had to find a way to entertain myself, so I watched the doctors and nurses. Eventually my parents put me in some more advanced – I’m not even sure they were legal – medical classes to keep me out of trouble, and I learned all sorts of interesting things from them, including how to stitch people up."

"Okay," said Tony slowly.

"But, I only have a mild numbing agent, so you're going to have to try not to scream, because it's going to hurt."

"Go for it, I won't scream."

And he didn't. He didn't even flinch, just sat patiently as Bucky sewed the wound shut. It impressed the taller boy until he realized how much worse Tony had probably had to deal with on his own, then it made him mad, so he turned his full attention on his task.

"Hey Tones," greeted Rhodey, joining the two on the platform.

"Hey Rhodey!" said Tony, lighting up at the sight of the darkly dressed, moody boy.

"Hello, Rhodey," greeted Bucky, trying to infuse some warmth in his voice that he didn't feel towards the other boy.

"What are you doing here?" replied Rhodey with a sneer, not bothering to pretend he liked the new boy who was spending time with his best friend.

"Just finishing up stitching up Tony here."

That drew Rhodey's sharp eyes to his friends now gauze wrapped hand.

"Tony?" he asked, warning in his voice.

"I was waiting until you got here to tell you," explained Tony, looking meek. "Bucky figured it out - no thanks to your less than subtle inquiry yesterday - so he made me promise I'd tell him when it happened too and he would fix it as best he could. This only happened this morning, so it's okay!"

Rhodey just shook his head and handed over the palest stage concealer to hide to massive bruise on Tony's face.

Again, Bucky drove Steve, Tony and Rhodey to school in his truck. Once there, Clint ran up to them, his blonde hair waving behind him like a strange tattered flag that didn’t flow that far behind his scalp.

"Tony!" Clint yelled. "I got this bag of gummy worms! Look!"

Clint shook his prize in the air, the bag already half eaten.

"No, no, no," said Tony, snatching the bag out of his friend’s hand.

"Mine!" complained Clint, arms crossing over his chest as he pouted. "What happened to your hand?"

"Oh, I cut it with a knife when I was making breakfast," said Tony nonchalantly, keeping as close to the truth as possible.

"Bucky," said Katie in her girlish voice, skipping up to the group as they talked by Tony's locker, ignoring the rest of them. "I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch today?"

"I always eat lunch," said Bucky, a snarky grin spreading across his handsome face. "I don't need permission to do that."

"You're just so funny!" laughed Katie, doubling over. "But really, do you want to eat lunch with me?"

"No."

"Well, then, maybe tomorrow," said Katie.

"Probably not."

"I'll meet you for coffee later!" sang Katie, skipping away before Bucky could protest, her skirt playing peek-a-boo with her butt again.

Steve laughed at the look of shock on his brother's face while Clint talked a mile a minute, oblivious to the encounter.

"And then I caught the squirrel, but my mom said I couldn't keep him," finished Clint, twirling in circles, his loose cargo pants flaring out and making a dark green cloud about his legs.

"Clint, you have all the energy of a coffee flavored pixie stick," said Tony with a grin that convinced almost the entire school that his life was fine.


	9. Breakfast Time

Everything settled into a sort of comfortable routine over the next couple of weeks. Bucky drove Steve and Tony - and on occasion Rhodey - to school each morning after the three neighbors had breakfast together made by Sarah, they went to classes where Steve quickly entered the competition for the best painter in the school, they hung out after school either at a local coffee shop, park, the Rogers-Barnes's house, or Tony's tree house, then they went to their respective homes, slept, and repeated the process. Sometimes Clint, Natasha, Bruce, and Thor joined them, sometimes not.

Saturday morning dawned just as bright - if not a bit colder - as the one three weeks before on the day the Rogers-Barnes's moved in had dawned. Tony was up before the sun as usual, sweeping the house for any dirt or grime that dared show itself, then showering and making breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. His hand had healed up nicely, leaving an angry red scar still tender to the touch running down his palm. There had been no other bad injuries since then, the occasional smack or shove, but nothing drastic; it helped that he spent most of his time away from the house. That morning, Tony had opted for a light white short sleeved shirt and dark wash jeans and had left his favorite hoodie in his room instead of risking getting bacon grease splashed on it. He hummed absently to himself as the bacon sizzled on the pan.

"Do you know me like you think you do, the days move quickly past," sang Tony, his voice soft but beautiful and mesmerizing. "We hold on and keep trying to make this summer last. But soon it will be over, soon it won't be fine. We're holding on to waves but we cannot stop the time."

He turned down the heat and took the trash out to the large trash cans outside.

"Why Tony, you're certainly up early for a Saturday," said Sarah, who was sipping coffee on the wooden deck with her husband.

"Hello, Sarah, William," smiled Tony. "How are you this morning?"

"Doing very well," said William politely. "What about you?"

Tony smiled at the man. Steve had explained to him that William had not spoken properly until he was seven and as he grew older became hard of hearing, so his speech sounded different and often times he would use sign language to communicate instead of speaking aloud. Tony, who knew some sign but not a lot, appreciated the effort the man put in to make him feel more at ease.

"I'm doing great!" said Tony, joy practically seeping out of his pores. "It's a really nice day today."

"You are such a happy individual," laughed Sarah, her smile lighting up in a way that would have put the sun to shame if the sun had feelings. "Is your father home? We'd love to meet him."

"He is getting ready for work, I think," said Tony evasively, smile still plastered firmly in place. "He's running a bit late this morning, though, so I don't know if he'll have time to say hello before he leaves."

"Oh, well maybe some other time. The boys will be up later."

"Or you can go pour water on them now and wake them up," said William, winking in a friendly manner.

Laughing, Tony shook his head. "It's fine. I'm sure they'll let me know when they're ready to hang out."

After a few more minutes of talking with his neighbors Tony went back inside. He placed the food on the table, arranging everything with a care that seemed borderline obsessive, going so far as to place a single daisy in the vase in the center of the table, making it look like a staged room for a magazine shoot. Although he would never tell another soul, he secretly loved yellow daisies, the way the yellow seemed to glow no matter what the background, like tiny personal sun. They were peaceful, happy flowers, everything his life was not, and Tony envied them for that.

"Good morning," greeted Tony, smiling at his father as the taller man walked in.

He grunted a general acknowledgement, sat down at the table, and immediately began eating. Tony shrugged and washed a dirty frying pan in the stainless steel sink, not letting even his father's perpetually sour attitude spoil his good mood.

"You missed some," said his father, dropping his plate in the sink with a smirk.

"Okay," said Tony, picking up the plate to wash it as well.

"What are you so happy for?"

Tony shrugged his slim shoulders which looked even smaller in the slightly large shirt.

"I asked you a question!" sneered his father, grabbing Tony by his shoulders and shaking him roughly.

"I'm happy because-" began Tony before a hand across his face stopped his speech.

"I don't care!" yelled his father. “You don’t deserve to be happy!”

Tony nodded his understanding, the stinging radiating off his face bringing his mood down a fraction. As his father's screaming picked up steam, Tony zoned out, retreating to the place he always went when things began to get intimidating, visualizing being far away from his home. In that place, sometimes Tony was playing in the snow on a day school had been canceled, laughing as the soft flakes tickled his nose, starting a snowball fight with friends that didn't exist, and skating at the local pond. Other times he was in the science lab at school building the one armed robot he’d had planned that far larger than he was. Every once in a while he was with his mother years ago, before everything. The only happy memory from his childhood that he still had was on his mother singing to his brother and him. His mother did not have a particularly beautiful voice but it was pleasant enough and it was the safety of the moment he treasured. Sitting on his mother's lap with his big brother, listening to their mother sing softly, that moment represented a lost opportunity. Maybe his father had been there, maybe it wasn't even a real memory and just a scene his love deprived mind had conjured, he didn't know. The memory or whatever it was grew harder to recall as the years passed.

"Hello?" came a worried voice, the kitchen door swinging open to reveal the morning air. "Is everything okay?"

Tony looked up from his place on the ground, staring with wide eyes through the door, terrified.

Happy birthday to me, he thought blearily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out this hospital ha fantastic wifi. The coffee however, is less than fantastic.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	10. Birthday

Happy birthday, dear Tony, sang Tony in his head, his eyes drifting shut, sweet darkness rushing up to envelop him like a blanket, a well-loved but slightly ominous blanket. The sensation of falling away from pain baffled his slipping mind. It was as if he was falling and floating at the same time, like dropping through space because when you really thought about it, space didn’t have an up or down.

The words you hear give you the chills, thought Tony, his mind flipping through songs like a juke box to distract from sensations he couldn't understand. Following hurts, but leading kills.

It was only when the screaming stopped the Tony realized anyone had been yelling in the first place. Someone was poking at him but instead of pain it was just mildly irritating. A voice was trying to tell him something, but it was like being under water, the words were distorted, impounding upon themselves, bending and waving, making it impossible to know who was even talking much less what they were saying. In a perverse way, he didn't even care, he just wanted them to let him fall into the darkness and stay there, out of reach.

"Lemme alone," he muttered, inadvertently breaking the barrier between his mind and reality.

Noises and sensations came rushing in together like a tidal wave, slamming into him, making his stomach roll and seethe. He bit down on his lower lip, refusing to open his eyes, instead trying to will a rebelling stomach into submission. Vaguely, he wondered if his father felt like that towards him, like he was an upset stomach that needed to be mastered. Then his head joined his stomach and swam sickeningly.

"What happened?" came a shrill, panicked voice.

"He fell down the stairs!" yelled his father, his tone one of panic.

That panic could have been taken for concern over his son, but Tony knew better, his father was just afraid he'd been caught.

"No, he did not! He-" another voice joined the fray.

"Ow!" moaned Tony, interrupting the speaker while trying to flick his eyes open.

"Tony!"

"I fell down the stairs," groaned Tony. "I fell….down…"

"Shh, darling, it's alright," said Sarah, coming into focus. "Are you hurt?"

Tony blinked, looking past Sarah to the dark eyes of his father. Howard shook his head in warning.

"No," said Tony, uncertainly. "Just sore, I think."

Rhodey kneeled next to him and helped Tony into a sitting position.

"What are you doing here?" hissed Tony, wincing as he remembered spotting Rhodey at the open door before his eyes had closed.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Rhodey, ignoring the question.

"I'll be better after some ice cream," said Tony, raising his eye brows in an attempt to silently communicate how badly he didn't want to talk about it right then.

"Tony, darling, maybe you should go see the doctor?" said Sarah. "You fell down some stairs, you could be hurt pretty badly. If anything you should at least let me check you over, I am a nurse after all."

"I'll make sure he gets looked at by someone," said Howard.

"Okay," conceded Sarah. "I'm Sarah Rogers-Barnes, by the way. You must be Tony's father. I'm so sorry for barging in like this, but when I heard you and Rhodey yelling, I wanted to make sure everything was alright. Your son is so special to my family already, I just couldn't imagine anything bad happening to him."

"He's something, that's for sure," agreed Tony's father drily. "But I have to go to work now. Tony, try to stop being so clumsy. By the way, I'm leaving town this afternoon and I'll be back sometime next month."

He strode out to his car, leaving a speechless Sarah and irate Rhodey staring after him.

"Well, Tony," said Rhodey, hauling Tony to his feet. "Let's get you that ice cream. Mrs. Barnes, are the boys awake yet? Maybe they want to come with us if they are."

"I'll go wake them up," said Sarah, still trying to process what had happened. "They'll be ready in no time. Would you two like to come over and wait?"

"I think I'm going to change, actually," said Tony, leaning casually against the black marble countertop. "But thank you. Oh, and will you tell Bucky when you see him that I left something in his backpack?"

"Sure."

With that, Sarah walked back to her house, still in a daze.

As soon as the kitchen door shut, Rhodey rounded on Tony.

"What happened?" he demanded. "I came over to give you your birthday present and I find him screaming and beating you into a pulp."

"I'm sorry," sighed Tony, one hand running through his dark locks. "I don't even know what happened this time. I'm sorry you had to see that, but thank you for not telling Sarah."

"Tony, you can't keep living like this," whispered Rhodey, worry coloring his normally steady voice. "And I can't keep covering for you all the time."

"I need to change," said Tony.

He walked away, leaving Rhodey in the kitchen alone. Rhodey stayed that way until Bucky came rushing in, his backpack in hand.

"What happened?" he said, his soft hair flying to a halt seconds after the rest of him. "My mom said Tony fell down the stairs. Where is he?"

"He's upstairs changing," said Rhodey. "He didn't fall down the stairs either. I don't know how your mom believed that lie, Tony wasn't even close to the stairs."

"Hey Bucky!" said Tony cheerfully, strutting into the kitchen in a long sleeved dark red hoodie that hid his bruises well.

"Tony," began Bucky.

"It happened again," rushed Tony. "I thought you should know, since I promised I'd tell you. But I'm okay. And he's going to be out of town until January, so you won't have to worry about me."

"Wait, he's leaving town over Christmas?" said Bucky, his tone one of disgust.

"He always leaves town for the holidays," shrugged Tony, clearly not bothered by that fact. "He doesn't like to celebrate them."

At the Barnes’s house, Steve finished getting ready in his room with his door open at a contrastingly unhurried pace, unlike his brother.

"Stevie sweetheart," said his mother, leaning against the doorway. "Is everything okay with Tony?"

"Yes, why?" said Steve, pausing as he combed his hair, surprised by the question.

"I don't know, I just get the feeling that something's going on at his home that isn't good," admitted his mother. "His father just announced he's leaving town for a month, right after Tony fell down the stairs. Who leaves their child after such a thing?"

"Tony said his dad was busy," reasoned Steve, again biting back the nagging doubt in his head. "But, if it makes you feel any better, I can ask him if anything is wrong."

"No, no!" said his mother quickly. "I don't want to scare him or offend anyone. I do think he should stay with us until his father gets back, though. I don't like the idea of him having to stay in that big house all by himself, he would get so lonely."

"Okay, mom, I'll let him know."

Steve kissed his mom's cheek and went to join his friends. He didn't notice the anxious look his mother gave his back nor how she was still ringing her hands as she always did when she was thinking. Sarah knew Steve was a good boy and would have told her if he knew anything but she doubted her son had any clue what went on with his neighbor. If anyone was going to know, it would be Bucky, who was more confrontational than his brother and seemed to spend more time with Tony. Sarah made a mental note to ask Bucky about his friend when they got home for the night but she knew it would have to be done delicately. Bucky was only just starting to open up since his sister's death and she didn't want to overwhelm him and scare him back into his moody shell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, keeping promises and such! Only a few more stories to update and a whole week to do it!
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	11. Warning Signs

After ice cream, Rhodey, Steve, Bucky, and Tony all went back to Tony's deserted house.

"Oh, by the way, my mom wants you to stay with us until your dad gets back," said Steve casually as Tony gave them a proper tour of the house.

"I can't do that," said Tony, his eyebrows crinkling with concern. "It'll be over the holidays and that's a time for family, not family and the awkward boy next door."

"Yeah, I don't really think mom thinks of you that way," said Steve with a smile. "I think it would be more of family and the son's best friend/wish he was my son as well to her."

Tony beamed up at Steve at that comment, his insides warming over as if he had downed an entire glass of hot coffee in one go. Over the last three weeks, Tony had grown incredibly attached to his neighbors and especially Sarah, who was like the mother he never had the chance of enjoying. Over time, he was even warming up to William, even if it was just a tiny bit. It wasn't William's fault, after all, that Tony was not at ease around him and he truly was a nice man.

"Well, if you're sure," said Tony slowly, not wanting to refuse the invitation but not wanting to intrude either.

"We're sure," assured Steve. "How about you grab your stuff now and bring it over?"

"Okay. Rhodey, will you help me pack?" asked Tony, jumping up with a wince.

"Sure," agreed Rhodey with a fond eye roll, following his excited friend to his room while the boys went to tell their parents that Tony had agreed to stay with them.

"Admit it, you like them!" teased Tony as he placed his perfectly folded clothes into a suitcase that had not seen the light of day in years.

"Steve is nice but Bucky is full of himself," scoffed Rhodey, sitting on the bed.

"No," corrected Tony, moving on to the closet. "Steve is blissfully in his own world where bad people go to jail and Bucky is a white version of you."

"I am not like Bucky at all!" said Rhodey indigently.

"You're both fairly good looking, brutally honest, and don't put up with nonsense," laughed Tony. "I'd say you're rather similar."

"They have nice parents," conceded Rhodey, changing the focus.

"They do," said Tony, leaning briefly against his closet doorframe in thought. "They are so lucky."

Rhodey shook his head, wishing Tony had the same luck, and helped his younger friend bring his belongings down the stairs, not that there was much to bring. The boys waited at the kitchen door for them, both grinning like fools with candy.

"Here, let me get that for you," said Steve, taking the light backpack from Tony as Bucky took the other from Rhodey. "Mom is thrilled that you're staying. She had the guest room all ready by the time I told her you had said yes."

"That's really nice," said Tony, suddenly shy.

He followed Steve and Rhodey into their house, up the stairs, and to a room just south of theirs. Sarah and William's master suite was on the ground floor, leaving the boys upstairs with the guest rooms. The room Tony was staying in had its own bathroom. The room itself was a calming shade of blue with mellow yellow trim and matching bed frame, giving it a beachy feel. The bathroom was a light blue grey, quaint, and already equipped with towel and toothbrush.

"Do you like your room, darling?" asked Sarah, who walked in, anxiously wringing her hands.

"It's beautiful!" gushed Tony, his breath nearly taken away by the sheer serenity of the place; it seemed to ooze relaxation and safety from the pores in the walls.

Then, in an uncharacteristic act, he went over and hugged Sarah. It wasn't the first time the two had embraced, Sarah had hugged Tony before, but Tony had never been the one to instigate the contact. He normally kept to himself and only responded when someone else made the first move.

"Well, dinner is going to be ready soon," said Sarah, who left, swiping her eyes.

"Did I do something wrong?" Tony asked the boys, nervous that he had upset Sarah.

"No, I'll go check on her," sighed Bucky, walking after his mother, leaving Tony, Steve, and Rhodey to get Tony settled in.

"Hey, mom!" said Bucky, catching up with his mom in the living room.

"Yes, dear?" asked his mother.

"What's the matter? Did Tony upset you?" asked Bucky, cutting to the heart of the problem, as usual.

"No, sweetheart!" said Sarah, surprised and turning to her oldest son. "Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"You left crying."

"Oh, well, it was just the first time he hugged me."

"So?"

"Bucky, darling, I have to ask you something," said Sarah, walking her son to the couch where his father sat reading a book. She tapped him on the shoulder and made sure he was looking before continuing. "William, I want you to listen as well."

"Yes dear," said William, obediently setting his book to the side and giving his wife his full attention.

Bucky had always been impressed by the devotion his father showed his mother. It didn't matter what the situation was, no matter how busy William seemed to be, he dropped everything for his wife and never seemed bothered by the interruption. It was as if nothing in the world was as important to him as his family.

"Bucky, what is Tony's home life like?" asked Sarah. She had been hoping to put off the conversation until later in the evening, but she had Bucky alone now and wanted to take advantage of that fact.

"Why?" asked Bucky, trying to buy his racing mind time.

"He just seems so….different, I guess," said Sarah. "I'm not sure how to explain it. But he always seems so shocked when we're nice to him and then his father leaving for a month, and over the holidays too! I just want to know if you've noticed anything."

"He's not the world's best father," admitted Bucky, hoping to conversation would drop at that. "But Tony said his dad goes away during the holidays every year."

"But why?"

"He works a lot," said Bucky, grasping at straws, trying to keep his cool demeanor.

"You would tell us if something was going on over there that we would need to know about, right?" said William, eyeing his son carefully.

"Yes," said Bucky, reasoning in his mind that if he could not handle Tony's father then he would let his parents know.

"Then I want you to answer us honestly," said his dad seriously, looking the boy who looked like the stereotypical brooding teenager but was really a soft hearted, jaded young man in the eye. "Does Tony's father abuse him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to have internet so I can update whenever I want!
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	12. Half Truths

If he thought his mind had been racing before, he had been wrong. At his father's question, Bucky's mind broke the sound barrier, the crack almost audible outside of his head. It was like being caught between a rock and a hard place and both were on fire, part of him wanting to tell his parents what was going on, another part of him wanting to keep Tony's trust and stay quiet about the matter. Rhodey had tried before to get Tony out of that situation and nothing had come from it. While Bucky was still not Rhodey's biggest fan he had no reason to believe that Tony’s best friend had lied to him or had not tried his hardest. On the other hand, his parents had more experience in general and may know a way around Tony's father. But if they did not manage to get around Tony's father and the man found out and moved Tony away again, or if Tony was taken away from his father and placed in a foster home, there would be no way for Bucky to watch over him and there would be no promise that Tony would be in a better place. Bucky had heard horror stories of foster homes from the people he had met in those support groups his mother had just insisted on placing him in after his sister's death and Bucky did not want Tony to be sent somewhere just as dangerous as his original home. In a short amount of time – relatively speaking – Tony would be 18 and could move out then, but if his father continued on, he may not make it another year. Bucky was torn.

"Tony is 16 years old," began Bucky, not sure where he was headed, but knowing he could not continue with the silence.

"I thought he was 15," said Sarah.

"Today is his birthday," explained Bucky, waving his hand dismissively. "So he's 16 now."

"Oh, we should do something special for him!" said Sarah, lighting up at the idea. "We can take him out to a nice place or what is his favorite meal? I could make that!"

"You didn't answer the question, James," said his father sternly, placing a gentle hand on his wife's arm to bring her back to the situation at hand.

James. Bucky knew he was not getting out of answering when his father brought out his first name.

"Do you remember when Grace died?" asked Bucky after taking a deep breath and moving to perch on the arm of the chair closest to the door, poised and alert.

Both of his parents froze, unsure of how the conversation had turned to the still uncertain topic of their dead daughter. They would talk about Grace sometimes, but for the most part it was a side of life they did not mention because no one was sure if the other was ready. It all still seemed too new, even after two years. Some mornings Sarah would wake up and start making breakfast for five before she remembered that there were only four of them now. Those days were the hardest, the ones where she forgot and then had to experience the pain all over again. In the dark hours of the night when everyone else was dreaming, William would wonder what Grace would be dreaming of if she were still with them. Steve would pick up his phone at school to call his sister, asking for a ride, before it hit him that she would never pick him up again. And Bucky, Bucky was left in his own world, fully aware of every day and hour that passed, marking a new record of how long he could go without feeling anything at all because not feeling was easier than facing the pain.

"Yes," said William slowly.

"Of course," whispered Sarah as though afraid that if she spoke any louder her heart would break again.

"How did you guys get over it?" inquired Bucky.

"We didn't," said William simply. "That's not something you ever get over, I think. The pain of losing a child never goes away, you just learn how to live with the pain, around it."

"I know I didn't handle it well in the beginning," admitted Sarah, guilt coloring her voice, causing a line of pain to Bucky's soul before he quickly squashed it. He hadn't meant to make his mother feel bad. "But your father and you boys really helped me. I still had you all to care for and it would not have been right for you to lose a sister and a mother. But it was heartbreaking and your father is right, you never really get over it."

"Why?" asked William, trying to figure out how all of it tied together.

"When Tony was three his older brother died rather suddenly," explained Bucky, running his hand through his thick hair as a plan solidified in his mind. "I'm not sure he wants me telling you this because he is a rather private person and I know he hates for people to pity him, but I think you should know. So, when his brother died, his mother went into a depression, only she never got out. She ended up killing herself and Tony found her. His father moved him here after that but his father was never the same after the loss of his oldest son and then wife. Tony says he's sick, I think it's with depression. You know what depression can be like – how consuming and overpowering it can be no matter how hard you want to feel better. He's not the best father but Tony feels like he has to take care of him. Tony doesn't want him to end up like his mother."

"Oh my," said Sarah when Bucky had finished. "That's terrible. He found his mother after she did that? I can't even imagine. It's no wonder he can be so jumpy."

"That poor boy," agreed William. "He's had a rough life, that's for sure, but you'd never guess it by talking to him."

"You've got that right," said Bucky darkly, thinking of the question he had avoided fully answering. "He really likes our family, which, according to Rhodey, is a first. Rhodey said Tony has never warmed up to anyone so quickly."

"Well, it sound like he's never really interacted with a stable, loving home before," said Sarah. "Oh, my heart just aches for him."

"I know darling," sighed William, gathering his wife in his arms. "We'll figure something out."

Bucky realized he had been dismissed and left the room as quietly as he could, wondering what his father had meant by his last comment and pondering if he had been smart to avoid directly answering the given question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire story is written. I wish I had internet and could just post all the chapters now!
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	13. For Real This Time

When Bucky walked back into Tony's temporary room, he found that Rhodey had left for his own home and Steve and Tony were sitting on the ground playing cards. It was a worn deck of cards, used hundreds of times over by the boys as they grew up. The amazing thing was that they had never lost a single card from that deck, which was good because they never would have been able to replace the space themed back of the cards.

"Is your mother okay?" asked Tony the second he spotted the dark haired boy, his normally playful voice worried.

"She's fine," said Bucky, a tight smile playing at his features as guilt knotted his stomach. "What game are you guys playing?"

"Steve is teaching me how to play poker," announced Tony with a goofy grin, showing Bucky his cards in a very unprofessional way. "I'm terrible."

"I can see that. Your hand is awful. We used to have a poker game every week with our friends," said Bucky, taking a seat in between his brother and friend and eyeing Tony's cards skeptically.

"That's what Steve told me. He wants to start up a game here with you, Rhodey, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, and me but he said I have to learn first or I won't be allowed to partake."

"Steve is picky like that."

"Is dinner ready?" asked Steve after he stuck his tongue out childishly at his brother, food the main thing on his mind, as usual.

"Let's go check if Sarah needs help," said Tony, instantly abandoning the game and pulling the boys out of the room after him.

Sarah and William were still sitting on the couch, deep in discussion, their heads close together. Tony knocked on the wooden door frame, announcing that he was there so as not to over hear something they didn't want him to know.

"Tony!" gushed Sarah, unable to contain herself. She rushed to the young boy and enveloped him in a warm, motherly hug.

"We were just wondering if you needed any help with dinner," explained Tony when Sarah let him go.

Tony's emotions were conflicted by the hug. He wanted Sarah to hug him like that again because it felt as though she actually cared but at the same time he wanted to get as far away from her as possible because only bad things came from parents. He didn't want to get attached but it seemed that was a battle he had already lost.

"Actually, we wanted to take you all out to eat, if that's okay," said William, rising from the couch and approaching them.

"Sure," said Tony, taking an instinctual step back to stand between the protection of the much larger Bucky and Steve.

"Excellent!"

They settled on going to the local Italian place a short drive away that Tony had introduced them to the week they moved in. Tony had spent years walking the surrounding area and found the most interesting hide outs that way, places off the beaten path that most people never knew existed. Sarah and William made a huge deal about it being Tony's birthday, embarrassing the poor teenager to no end when they insisted the waitress sing to him, but he secretly enjoyed it. When they got home, Sarah made a cake while the boys distracted Tony with video games in the upstairs television room. Then, they sat him down in their formal dining room and sang him the birthday song - the first one sung to him in years.

"Happy birthday to you!" sang the Barnes-Rogers family, who had surprisingly pleasant singing voices. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Tony! Happy birthday to you!"

Tony blew out the 16 gold candles on his white frosted, red velvet cake and ate a large piece with the rest other four people in the house. He could not remember the last time he had enjoyed his birthday so much. Later that night, when he settled into the spare bed and thought back on his day, tears filled his eyes against his will.

"Tony?" came the soft voice of Bucky from the door. "Are you still awake?"

"Yes," sniffed Tony, trying to hide the tears in his voice, not wanting to get caught crying like a little baby.

"What's wrong?" asked Bucky, walking in, leaving the door cracked, and sitting on the bed with Tony, his former reason for being in the smaller boy's room so late forgotten.

"Nothing," said Tony, swiping at his eyes as he sat up. "Why are you here?"

“Steve was super tired and went to sleep but he wanted me to tell you that your birthday gift should be arriving tomorrow. Now, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"It's your family," hiccupped Tony, knowing Bucky was about as stubborn as he was when it came to getting or giving information, his vain attempt to hold back tears failing.

In response Bucky made a very un-Bucky like gesture (something he seemed to be willing to do for this flighty boy alone) and put his arm around Tony's thin shoulders, pulling him in to lean against him like he would for a younger sibling. Tony did not hesitate like he had the last time, merely turned his face into Bucky's soft shirt, falling into one of the only forms of comfort he had received for years.

"Everyone is so nice," explained Tony through his leaking eyes. "Your mom, dad, brother, you, everyone. You have such an amazing family. I can't even remember the last time my father even mentioned my birthday and yet you guys take me out to dinner. It's just making me realize how abnormal my life must be….and what it must be like to have parents who care. I want that, Bucky, I want to have that. I don't want to worry about my father, I don't want to put up with his abuse anymore, I just want to have someone like me enough to want to be with me on holidays. I want someone to like me enough to care about what I am doing, where I am, who I am with, how my grades are. I want someone to yell at me when I get in trouble at school, not when I wake up and do the dishes or make dinner. I want to care enough to stay."

Bucky just pulled Tony closer, humming softly and rubbing his back with long soothing strokes, smoothing his soft, messy, brown hair until the kid settled down and, eventually, fell asleep. When he was sure Tony was down for the count, Bucky eased him back into his bed and crept out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him. Then he snuck down the stairs and found his parents back on the couch, clearly talking about Tony and how they thought the day went for him.

"Hey mom, dad?" asked Bucky, shifting his feet as he stood awkwardly in the doorframe in his oversized white t-shirt and baggy sweat pants.

"Yes, darling?" said Sarah.

"What is it son?" asked William, concern moving over his firm face.

"I'm ready to talk to you about Tony," said Bucky, meeting their eyes. "For real this time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee shop wifi is the best! Also, I am determined the have this entire thing posted by the end of August. So sorry if all the updates/notifications bother you, but this is happening.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	14. Surprise

The next morning Tony rose just as early as he normally did, quietly showering and brushing his teeth in the strange bathroom before slipping downstairs to the kitchen. There, he made breakfast just like he would if his father had been home and he had been at his own house. The routine comforted him and he ghosted about trying not to wake anyone as he went. While the house was fairly orderly, he found three empty cups in the living room that he collected and washed while bacon sizzled in the background on an iron frying pan. The Barnes's house gave off a different vibe than Tony's own house, one that put him at ease instead of keeping him on edge.

"This is The Scarlet Letter, Here's Where the Red Fern Grows," sang Tony absently as he worked, his voice soft but surprisingly pure. "This is what you ought to think, this is what you need to know. They tell us to be patient, in time we'll understand. But that still will not solve the problem that's at hand.

"And the world still spins, trying to make us give in. The storm is raging on through the night. And they kill our song. Every move we make is wrong. They want us to give up without a fight. And the world spins.

"'You're too young to get it.' That's what the always say. They don't seem to realize that they'll be gone someday. They need to let us stand alone, they have to let us choose. We're different from the rest of them but that's not big news.

"And the world still spins Trying to make us give in. The storm is raging on through the night. And they kill our song. Every move we make is wrong. They want us to give up without a fight. And the world spins.

"But we will be strong because that's what we choose. And we'll stand together or surely we'll lose.

"And the world still spins Trying to make us give in. The storm is raging on through the night. And they kill our song. Every move we make is wrong. They want us to give up without a fight. And the world spins.

"So here's The Scarlet Letter. Here's Where the Red Fern Grows..." his voice faded out, allowing the normal morning sounds of the kitchen to rush up and replace it.

"You have a beautiful voice," commented William from the kitchen door, causing Tony to jump in surprise.

"Oh, um, thank you," said Tony, leaning back against the sink, away from William, more than a bit confused as to how and why he would be commenting on Tony's voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," apologized William with an easy smile. "I just was coming in to get something to eat and noticed you singing and I didn't want you to stop."

"Okay," said Tony, unsure of what else to do.

He had never been alone with William before and it was making him very uneasy. He wanted so badly to like the unassuming man and to an extent Tony did, but being alone with him was another thing entirely.

"If you sit down, I will make you a plate."

"Do you want any help?"

"No!" exclaimed Tony, a bit too quickly. "It’s fine, I do this all the time. Just sit and I will bring you some food."

William sat down, watching Tony's every move. It did not escape him how much more jumpy the boy was around him than with Sarah or the boys and after what his son had told him last night, he understood why. As he competently flitted around the kitchen, his brown hair bouncing and oversized shirt flowing in his wake, it baffled William how anyone would want to cause such an innocent child harm. He could tell Tony was trying to relax around him, but he also knew it would be a long time before that happened.

"Here you go," said Tony, depositing a loaded plate in front of William before hopping back out of the way. "Did you want some coffee as well?"

"No thank you," replied William, trying to calm the teenagers nerves. "Are you going to have anything to eat?"

"I will, but I want to make sure that Sarah, Steve, and Bucky get something first."

"Oh, well Sarah is talking with the boys right now, so they may be a while."

"Oh."

William watched Tony's face carefully slide into a guarded mask as Tony made himself a small plate. William didn't dare tell him what Sarah was speaking to both boys about but he wondered what the kid’s reaction would be if he knew.

"So Tony," began William, trying to diffuse the tension. "How did you sleep?"

"Very well, thank you," replied Tony politely, his light eyes hooded. "It's really too kind of you to let me stay here. I promise, I won't be any trouble."

"Not at all," laughed William. "It's our pleasure. Sarah and I are quite taken with you and I've never seen Bucky warm up to anyone so quickly."

"He's a nice boy and Steve is just as kind. You've raised them well."

"How are they liking school?"

"As far as I can tell, they both really like it and are fitting in well."

"That's good. I was worried about moving them in the middle of the year, but it seems to be working out well."

Tony nodded and picked at his food, poking it and sliding it around the plate. The silence grew.

"Did you get anything nice for your birthday?" asked William, casting around for subjects.

"My friend Rhodey gave me a new book," said Tony, his face breaking into a genuine smile. "And Bucky gave me a really interesting journal."

"Is that all? Did your father or grandparents get you anything?"

"No," said Tony, his cheeks darkening slightly. "My grandparents are dead."

William noticed how Tony steered away from the topic of his father. As he thought about it, William realized Tony had always been strangely vague when it came to his father and home life in general. Until Bucky had talked to him yesterday, he had no idea Tony ever even had a brother. Tony would answer any question about his life or father with a quick, ready response that left the topic alone and soared quickly into another.

"Good morning!" greeted Sarah, walking into the room with her sons behind her. "Tony dear, did you make breakfast?"

"Yes," said Tony, visibly relaxing as soon as he saw the others. "Thank you so much for letting me stay here, by the way. I really appreciate it."

"It's no problem at all, dear," said Sarah brightly, kissing the top of his messy brown hair.

"Tony!" announced Steve with a grin. "I checked and your present arrived early this morning. Want to see it?"

"Yes," laughed Tony.

"Okay, close your eyes," said Steve, bouncing with excitement.

Tony stood up but raised his eyebrows slightly, unsure of how much he liked the idea of shutting his eyes and trusting someone to lead him around.

"Come on," said Bucky softly, his cool tone comforting, taking Tony's smaller hands in his own large ones. "Shut your eyes, I'm going to lead you to your present."

Tony reluctantly allowed his lids to drop and let Bucky guide him through the kitchen and out the back door, much to him confusion. The morning was brisk and light, a slight breeze tugging absently at his hair as if in greeting. The grass felt spongy and cool on his bare feet, causing him to chuckle a bit as the blades tickled his toes.

"That's good!" yelled Steve. "Open your eyes!"

Tony opened his eyes and laughed in delight.

"Oh my goodness!" he said, running over to Steve. "She's beautiful!"

Steve handed him the Australian shepherd/boxer mix puppy, a white, brown, and black mixed fur bundle of energy. Tony cuddled it and set it on the ground to play.

"Thank you, Steve," said Tony from the ground, looking up at the giant of a boy. "She's perfect!"

"I knew you'd like her," claimed Steve, looking very proud of himself. “I saw her online at the Humane Societies site and just couldn’t pass her up.”

"What are you going to name her?" asked Bucky, looking on with a smile as Tony played with his new puppy.

"Pepper," said Tony without hesitation.

"Pepper? Why that?"

"She looks like a Pepper, don't you Pepper?"

In response, the puppy Pepper yipped, happily nipping at his fingers, causing Tony to snicker. For the moment, he was going to pretend that his father would let him keep Pepper. For the moment, he was going to pretend that his father was never coming back and that everything was going to be alright. But only for that moment, because the next day, that moment would only be a happy memory to cling to as the storm that was his life picked up steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure my local Starbucks thinks I have no life.....and they're not wrong, but I wish it didn't cost me all my monies as well.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	15. At School

Tony, Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Rhodey all sat on the ground in front of Tony's locker eating their lunches and talking about their weekends. Clint, his dark blond hair messy and brown eyes wide, sat listening intently to his friends interesting lives while trying to ignore the other people who were staring as they walked by.

"Steve gave you a puppy?" gasped Clint when Tony told him why he was so anxious for school to end for once.

"Yup!" grinned Tony, showing off his dazzlingly white teeth. "Her name is Pepper."

"Can I meet her?" asked Clint, bouncing in excitement. "Oh please! Oh please! Oh pretty, pretty please!"

"The physical appearance of the please does not impact the answer," snapped Rhodey, his temper running a little short because of a long weekend.

"Ugly please?" tried Clint one last time, causing Steve to laugh deeply, a belly laugh.

Bucky followed Tony's gaze out the window of the front doors where he was staring with an unreadable look.

"What is he doing here?" said Tony quietly.

Bucky didn't bother responding, just got up, pulled Tony to his feet roughly, and motioned for Steve and the others to follow him. As soon as they turned the corner, out of sight of the window, they broke into a run.

"What's going on?" panted Steve when they slid into a janitor’s closet.

"What is he doing here?" hissed Bucky, locking the door and pulling out his phone.

"This can't be happening," said Tony, a hand running through his hair, messing up the locks in a way that somehow made his impish good looks even more attractive. "I have to go see what he wants."

"Tony, no," said Bucky, handing Steve his phone and facing the shorter boy. "I forbid it. Look, whatever he wants, it's not good."

Screaming started. They heard people running around the halls, but the closet had not window to see what was happening.

"Students, teachers," came a voice over the intercom of the vice principal. "Please proceed to your lockdown locations. Remain calm, but this is not a drill."

"What's going on?" yelled Steve over the noise from outside their room.

"Hello?" came a deep, confused voice over the phone.

"Hello?" said Bucky, snatching his phone back, his father on the other end of the connection. "Dad! Something's going on at school. Tony's…Tony's father is here. I think he's finally cracked. He brought a gun. They've put the school on lockdown. Yes, yes, Steve and Tony are with me, we're safe right now. There are a two other people with us, some friends. Yes, I understand. Okay. I love you too."

He hung up and looked around the room. Rhodey was leaning against the wall, his face stricken but looking strangely like he was ready to kill. Steve was looking as if he was still at lunch and unsure of why he was even in a supply closet, and Tony was sitting on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees, deep red hood of his sweatshirt up, staring at Bucky with eyes that swallowed his soul whole.

"Tony, it's not your fault," said Bucky as if he could read Tony's mind, kneeling in front of him.

"Boy!" came the muffled scream of his father, causing Tony to jump.

Everyone froze, staring at the door in silence, willing the voice to go away. Bucky crouched silently in front of Tony, blocking the door from his view. He could feel his friend’s trembling behind him as he stared, waiting for the door to blast open.

"Boy!" yelled his father again, this time a shot accompanying it. "That annoying prat Hammer told me you were going to report me! We both know I can't let that happen, so get out here and we can settle this, just you and me."

His footsteps faded but no one raised their voices above a whisper when they finally spoke.

"Who is that guy?" choked out Clint, eying the air vent like he was actually considering climbing into it. "What does he want?"

"Who was he talking about?" demanded Bucky, livid. "Who was the Hammer guy he mentioned?"

"Justin Hammer, he’s a senior,” said Clint. “Steve told me about your plans to get custody of Tony over the phone when I was at a party and Hammer was standing nearby. Later I was online and I saw that he sort of made a comment on an internet forum about it, trying to see if that was even legal, and some guy started commenting on it.”

"Who is he?" asked Clint again, wringing his blonde hair nervously in his hands.

"He's Tony's father, you nitwit!" hissed Rhodey, smacking Clint over the head. "Why are you so stupid, Clint? Why on earth would you not report something like that?"

"Wait, you were trying to get custody of me?" said Tony, his voice so soft that Bucky, sitting next to him, barely heard it.

"Yes," said Bucky, inwardly bellowing in fury but outwardly remaining calm so as to not startle Tony more than the poor boy already was. "My parents were suspicious and asked me about your home life and if your father abused you. I know I promised not to say anything, Tony, but he knocked you out on Saturday. I was worried and I didn't want to lie directly to them, so I told my parents what was going on. They've been looking into getting custody of you since. My mom talked to Steve and me about it yesterday and we both agreed that we wanted you away from your father, but we weren't supposed to tell anyone about it until my parents had more details. We wanted to avoid something this extreme."

"Are you mad?" asked Steve, shamefaced.

"No," sighed Tony, yet again messing up his hair as he thought the situation through. "I'm not mad. I'm-"

"Boy!" came a bellow over the intercom system, filling the halls and classrooms. "I'm giving you one hour to give yourself up. If you don't, I start killing people, one for every minute you stay hidden. Your choice."

The intercom clicked off with a familiar, almost comical ding. The teens huddled in the closet, staring at each other, wondering what their next move would be.

"I have to go talk to him," said Tony at last, making a move to get around Bucky to the door.

"No!" exclaimed Bucky, holding him in a vice grip as he struggled to get out.

"He's going to kill people, Bucky," snapped Tony. "Let me go. Please!"

"The cops are on their way now," reasoned Bucky. "We have an hour to make a move, we don't have to do anything right now. I say we give the police a chance to handle this first."

"I can't let you go out there, Tony," said Rhodey, placing a broken desk in front of the door to act as a barricade.

"We'll figure something out, don't worry," assured Steve in an unusual display of calm.

"Why are you guys stopping him?" asked Clint, his eyes wild. "If he wants to give himself up, I say let him! There's no point in the rest of us dying because of him!"

"Shut up, you traitor!" sneered Rhodey, advancing on him, his dark eyes flashing, black boot clumping ominously, not caring that it was actually Hammer who shared the information that put Tony in danger. "Tony's not going anywhere. If anyone should go out there and face him, it should be you. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be in this mess! You just had to open your big mouth and ruin everything!"

"Guys, stop!" cried Tony. "Just stop!"

Steve went and comforted Clint while Rhodey continued to glare at Clint as if daring him to make another move. Tony quit fighting Bucky's grip on him and instead sunk back down on the ground next to him since Bucky refused to loosen his hold in case Tony tried to escape again, trying to find a way out for everyone, wishing for the first time that the Rogers-Barnes family unit had never moved in next door so that they wouldn't be in danger. Bucky merely tightened his grip in nonverbal reassurance, his watchful eyes never leaving the door.

"I won't let him touch you again," he whispered into the hood, so quietly Tony barely heard the promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for not having this finished by now, I've had the entire thing written for ever. Feel free to pester me if I ever let it go so long again.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	16. Spy Movies

Periodically they could hear footsteps make their way past the door, echoing down the otherwise eerily silent hall, bouncing off the walls until they sounded more like clashing drums played by an enthusiastic toddler than footsteps. Each time the teens would all tense up, waiting for the door to get broken down, waiting to be discovered.

"The SWAT team is emptying the school classroom by classroom now but it's slow going since they don't know where the shooter is," said Steve, reading quietly off of his phone from the news.

That's what they called Tony's father - the shooter. It was easier to pretend one of their own was not the target if they didn't name the threat.

"Dad said the police are working at securing each hall," added Bucky, scanning a text from his father. "He told them we are hiding in a closet, so they are trying to locate us."

"Time's almost up, boy!" came a shout through the hall. "I know the police are involved now! You have to come out or I start with them."

Bucky tightened his arm around Tony as the footsteps passed, both protecting and restraining the boy. Then, indescribably, as they faded, the footsteps paused before came closer once again. Clint began to sob and Steve hugged him tightly, stroking his naturally dark blond hair and muffling the noise of his own harsh breaths with his free hand. Rhodey clamped his hand over Clint's mouth in case the kid got it in his head to give up their position in hopes of saving himself. Bucky moved Tony from his seat next to him and instead maneuvered the younger boy behind his back, making sure to keep on hand on Tony's arm, just to be sure he was still safely within reach. He doubted Tony's shaking would ever stop.

The doorknob jiggled.

"Kids?" came a soft, deep voice.

"Dad?" whispered Steve, taking a step towards the door.

"Steve?" said a deep voice like his father from the other side of the door.

"Steve, don't, it's a trick," whispered Tony, tugging him back.

"No, it's my dad," said Steve, trying to yank his arm away from Tony.

"No, Steve, trust me, please! Your dad isn’t SWAT, he wouldn't be allowed in here right now."

The blond haired boy ignored him and took a step to the door, reaching to unlock it.

"NO!" screamed Tony, tearing him back so forcefully that he tripped back and crashed down on top of the smaller one.

"Boy!" screamed Tony's dad, banging on the door. "I know you're in there! I heard your voice!"

Rhodey was cursing in the corner, using words even Bucky had never used, his eyes scanning the room for another exit, any exit. He pointed. In the top corner of the ceiling was an air vent. It would be a tight squeeze, but it was their only option.

"Nuh-uh!" balked Steve as Clint was boosted into the small opening. "I don't do small spaces."

A gun fired in the hall as Rhodey squeezed his black clad body in the metal casing.

"It's not that small," said Steve changing his tune, hopping into his brothers hands and jumping for it.

"You next," whispered Bucky, flinching as another shot sounded.

"No, you won't be able to make it up without me," said Tony. "Look, I'll boost you up, and then I'll jump from the broken desk. I'm lighter, I can make it."

The pride in Bucky protested, insisting he let Tony go first but the realist in him knew Tony's way was the smartest and fastest, so he allowed the genius to take his weight as he shimmied into the vent. He wedged himself along, following the track left in the dust by his friends. It was not at all like the spy movies. The walls were close and covered in grime and it was darker then he thought possible. Still, he hurried along until he felt hands on his feet. He chanced a glance back and saw Tony crawling along after him. Then he started to fall headlong out of a sudden opening.

"Whoa, cowboy," said Steve, catching his shoulders and lowering him without grace to the floor. They had found their way into another closet.

"So many closets in this place!" growled Rhodey, wiping dust off his normally impeccably black clothing.

"How on earth did we get here?" asked Tony, sticking his head out of the hole in the ceiling.

"Slide out," said Bucky, motioning for him to fall into his and Steve's waiting arms.

"It's like a water park without water!" said Clint with a watery, apologetic giggle.

Tony pushed himself down and into his neighbors open arms. Once on solid ground again they stood silently to listen. Echoes of shots could be heard radiating from the air duct.

"Now might be the time to run for it," said Steve.

"I'm going!" said Clint.

Before anyone could stop him, he was out and running screaming down the hall, slamming the door behind him. The shots stopped as his screams filled the air. Steve locked the door behind him, knowing the moment was lost.

"Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” said Tony softly, more to himself than anyone else.

Suddenly, the closet door burst open, causing the teenagers to all scream. Bucky forced Tony back behind him as Steve did the same with Rhodey, the brothers forming a wall between their friends and the open door.

"Kids, come on," said a police officer, motioning them to follow his team and him. "It's okay, we're police officers, we're going to get you out of here, it's going to be alright."

They followed the police officers out, becoming instantly surrounded by them as the men in black formed a human shield. Soon, they were deposited outside where they were checked over for injuries and questioned. Tony told them that it was his father and he was deranged and in need of mental help.

"How old are you?" asked the officer in charge. "Do you have a way of getting a hold of your mother?"

"I'm 16," answered Tony, a hand running through his dust covered hair. "My mom's dead."

"He's staying with us," informed Bucky, resting one of his large hands on the smaller boy’s shoulder.

"Well son, that's all well and good, but I need his legal guardian or he has to go with social services," replied the officer tiredly. It had been a long day for him already.

"Steve! Bucky!" yelled their parents, rushing up and embracing their sons.

"Are you kids alright?" asked William, looking them over.

"Oh Tony!" cried Sarah, hugging Tony as well. "I'm so happy you kids aren't hurt!"

"Dad, mom, they're saying they have to take Tony away!" said Steve, tugging on his father's sleeve and pointing at the officer in question.

"I can't release him to anyone but his legal guardian," restated the officer, rubbing his eyes.

"We're just waiting on the official papers," assured William in his deep reassuring voice that was always a bit too loud. "However, since it is his father in question and he isn’t quite of age, Tony shouldn’t technically be released to us unless we were his guardians. I can prove that he will be looked after by legal adults. My wife are the legal adults in question. And we are in the process of gaining legal claim over him."

"Whatever," said the officer. "I have other things I need to be doing than babysitting. I don't care. Take him."

Sarah hugged Tony again as the officer walked away.

"I hope that's okay, darling," said Sarah, stepping back. "We were going to ask you before anything became final. And William was actually lying, we haven't been cleared for any papers yet."

"But, you really want to become my guardians?" asked Tony, leaning against Bucky's side, unconsciously searching for some form of comfort and stability.

"If you'll let us, yes," said Sarah with a shy smile.

"We'll talk about this another time," said William, sensing that Tony was quickly becoming overwhelmed. "It's been an emotionally exhausting day, how about we all just go home?"

Everyone nodded in agreement. They wound their way through the ocean of bodies, finally making it to Sarah's grey sedan. Tony sat in the middle of the back seat between Steve and Bucky, staring absently at his hands as they drove home. When they got to the Roger-Barnes's house, Tony went to his room, took a shower, and changed into baggy sweats and a green hoodie, leaving his wet hair to dry in the wind. Not knowing what else to do and desperately needing to think, he went outside and climbed up to his tree house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! Another chapter in such a short amount of time!
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	17. Who He Was

It was quiet when he emerged on the platform. He hadn't been in his tree house for a couple of days, the longest period of time he had been away since moving in. The south wall was poorly patched from years of wear and tear. As he had grown, his workmanship had improved, but that south wall was forever scarred from the beginning when he had just moved in to the house with his father.

_"Tony," said his father, speaking to him for the first time in the several hours it had taken them to drive to their new house. "I'm going to go find a grocery store. You start unpacking."_

_"Okay, daddy," said Tony._

_He was young and small, his brown hair cropped short but still managing to stick out at random as natural curls tried to make themselves known, his cheeks naturally flushed. The large furniture was already in place in the new house and Tony, who had meticulously packed away each box and labeled them with the room they belonged in his messy scrawl, had an easy time unpacking the boxes. His room was larger than his bedroom at home and seemed empty even when it was fully unpacked. In his closet he discovered a crawlway in the back corner that lead to a secret room, dark, covered in faded pink wallpaper, with a small round window in the top wall out of his reach. A secret room- something he had always wanted and finally got, just not in the way he was expecting._

_After a few hours and his father not returning, Tony ventured outside to explore the back yard. There was no fence, which disappointed him because he would never be allowed to get a dog if there was no fence. A large tree in the yard looked inviting. As he meandered around, bare feet crinkling the rough dry grass, he found a long rope ladder dangling down, hidden from view of the door. Looking up, the tree appeared to tower over him, bending to squash him at a moments notice. Still, never one to be daunted, Tony began to climb hand over hand and foot over foot rung by rickety rung making his way up._

_It was nothing more than a platform, sturdy enough and made of rough wood but well constructed. Standing up there Tony could picture in his overactive mind the castle of a tree house he could build with his father. There would be stairs and rooms and he bet he could convince his dad to insulate it for him. After everything that had happened, it would be a welcome break from reality, something positive to put their attention and efforts into. The sound of a car pulling up sent him scrambling back down the ladder, excited to tell his father about his discovery._

_"Hi, daddy!" squeaked Tony, running up to greet his father, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Did you find a grocery store?"_

_"No, Tony, I didn't," said his father tiredly, smelling harshly like those dark bottles he drank from after work. It was one of the last times he would ever call his son by his name. "Did you do as I asked and unpack everything?"_

_"I did," said Tony proudly, walking him into the house and showing off his handy work._

_For years Tony had been organizing and cleaning house since his mom was sick so often, so he knew how things were supposed to be. Everything was in its place, just like it had been at their old house. He loved the way it had turned out and couldn't wait for his father to see as well._

_"What have you done?" said his father, freezing in the living room, his voice dangerously quiet._

_"I - I unpacked," said Tony, confused, pushing his hair out of his face for the first time, unaware of the habit he was forming._

_The living room looked warm and inviting, pictures placed around the room, a light brown throw blanket tossed artfully over the chocolate colored leather sofa._

_"No!" screamed his father, causing Tony to jump back in fright. He had never yelled at him like that before. "I told you to get rid of those things! I never want to see those pictures again, don't you get that? It's bad enough having you around, I don't need to see them everywhere I walk as well. That's why we moved!"_

_"I'm sorry," said Tony, unsure of why his father was so upset. After all, he missed his brother and mother as well but he loved having their pictures around to remind him of what they looked like. "I'll just put them away."_

_"You do that," nodded his father, his sudden fit of anger seeming to have passed as quickly as it came. "I'm going to bed. Good night."_

_Tony shrugged to himself and went about removing all of the photos of his family, putting them back into their boxes and then hiding them away in the secret pink room. He found a light switch in there and turned it on. The first thing he did was hang up a black towel over the window, balancing precariously on an old dresser as he did. Then he hung the pictures up and arranged the frames around the room, creating his own hidden shrine of memories._

_"I don't get it," said Tony quietly to no one because no one was there anymore to listen, not even the moon because he had locked it's warm glow out with the black towel. "I don't understand why dad doesn't want to see the pictures."_

_His father's harsh words replayed in his mind over and over until he fell asleep there in the pink room, curled up on the floor, wishing they had never moved to the new house and knowing that his father would never want to build the tree house with him now._

"Are you okay?" asked Bucky, joining Tony in his sanctuary. "I'm sorry if you want to be alone, I was just worried and needed to check on you. It makes me nervous, having you this close to where he lives and not having you within sight."

"You know, my father wasn't always like this," said Tony, still studying the south wall.

"I'm sure he wasn't," said Bucky practically. "However, he's like this now, and that's what matters at the moment."

"He used to be kind."

"You used the past tense there, Tony," said Bucky gently, knowing they were walking on fragile ground. "How long has it been since he was been kind to you?"

"That doesn't matter."

"How long?"

"Since we moved here, he has been different."

"Then you know what you should do. He's had his chance to change, he's had his own time, and you own him nothing. It's time for you to let him go because he is not your father any more. You have to let him go."

"It's not that simple. It's never that simple."

"No, it's incredibly simple. What I think you meant was that it's not that easy. It's not going to be easy, he's still the one who helped create you, he's all you've ever known in a father, but you deserve better than what he has become."

Tony sighed, the fight visibly leaving his body as his shoulders slumped because deep in his soul he knew that Bucky was right but that didn't make it hurt less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys....I've lost my laptop charger....it's going to die soon...
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


	19. To Be So Weak

"What are you doing?" asked Steve, poking his head into Tony's room and finding him sitting at his desk, the lamp on but the overhead light off.

"Writing," said Tony with a grin, looking up from his paper.

"Writing what?"

"A poem."

"You write poetry?"

"Sometimes, yes," said Tony. "I love music and lyrics - before I moved my friend and I talked about starting a band and we started writing songs - but right now I'm trying my hand at free verse."

"Will you read it to me?" asked Steve.

"What's going on?" asked Bucky, appearing by Steve, crowding the door frame.

"Tony is going to read me a poem he wrote," said Steve, squeezing past his brother into Tony's room and plopping down on his neatly made bed.

"Oh you are? Really?" said Bucky, joining his brother on the bed and patting the space between them, signaling Tony to join.

The school had been shut down for the week since the shooter incident the day before, leaving the teenagers with time on their hands.

"Um, sure, I guess I'll read it," said Tony, settling in between them. "Ahem.

 

"Begin with a soft dynamic,  _adagio pianissimo,_  the quiet, twinkling chords play," recited Tony.

"Slowly in a lofty octave, floating above the other scales, joined

by the bedside sound of the violin.

 

"Mile 15, the rain turns to a gully washer and the mudded grass

forms an unstable platform and she hits the ground.

The ground hits back with more force. When asked this time,

the fall would not be a lie.

 

"A time signature alters and flows into the second progression.

an  _accelerando_  marks the quickened pace as the notes descend

into a deeper scale and minor key.

 

"Frozen, her eyes glued to her plaid covered

lap, knees, scabbed from her last trip in the rain, peak

out timidly from the skirt before opal socks race

up her runners claves, hiding purple and green spotted shins.

If she ever removed the faded black hoodie, her arms would show

fingerprints like a dusted crime scene.

 

"The brass makes its booming entrance as percussion treads

through with its somber tone. Quick chords clash within a cacophony

of precise, intentional discord.

 

"Her heart was broken, each piece rattling

around in her chest with every shallow breath.

Several slivers bounce off her bruised ribs while one bit,

the right ventricle, lodges itself in her throat,

a reminder with every hollow inhalation

that pushed air, but not food, past the dislocated valve,

that it was just her lungs moving now, no heart, no blood,

lungs moving independently of the rest. She never

thought he'd do it, he never thought she'd be so weak.

 

"A quick  _crescendo_  ushers in the  _fortissimo_. Cymbals sound, then silence.

Flutes offer their serene berceuse, the woodwinds mesh to form

A lullaby."

 

The silence after his reading was thick with anticipation. It did not make sense, but he desired their approval so much it hurt.

"Mind you it's just a rough draft," said Tony when the silence became too much. “And it’s not supposed to be a song, it’s for English class.”

"And you just wrote that?" said Steve slowly.

"Yes," replied Tony, his voice so quiet he barely heard it.

"You have an incredibly understanding of music."

"I think it was beautiful," said Bucky in his comforting, understanding tone. "Sad, but beautiful."

"Thank you," said Tony.

After that awkward moment, they began talking more freely about what the missed days would mean for their semester.

"Oh, I'm glad you all are together," said William, entering Tony's room and finding his sons and Tony chatting on the guest bed. "I wanted to update you on everything."

"Okay," said Steve, moving so that he was sitting more comfortably on the ground, leaning against the bed.

"Well, luckily, no one was injured during yesterdays….events," began William slowly as though he was thinking about how to form each word before he spoke it. "They found Clint, I know you boys asked about him. He went out different door which is why we didn't know anything about him to begin with. Also, they arrested Howard Stark, Tony's father, for attempted murder and several other accounts. That should be enough to get him tossed in jail, but if it's not, Tony, would you be willing to press charges for abuse and neglect?"

Tony stiffened for a moment. Bucky's hand snaked up to rest reassuringly on his shoulder, squeezing softly, bringing him back to the situation at hand.

"Yes," whispered Tony, nodding to be sure that William understood him.

"Okay," said William, inclining his head in thanks. "Hopefully it won't come to that. Also, we have been given temporary emergency custody of Tony until the trial has happened. You kids will not be involved in that ordeal, thank goodness. After the trial, well, it depends on how the trial goes. If he goes to jail, we can be granted full custody, if not, we have to push the abuse and neglect case and see where that leads."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Steve soundly, confident that everything would work out in their favor. "It shouldn't be too difficult to get permanent custody of Tony since you two already adopted both of us separately, so you have that going for you."

William smiled at his son, who was so blissfully unaware of how much work was going in to getting Tony away from his father, fondly.

"I need to go speak with your mother, but Tony, are you sure you're okay with all of this?"

"Yes, I am if you are," said Tony.

"We'd like nothing more than to have you out of that environment and with us for good," said William. "Okay, well, I will see you all later."

William got up and walked out of the room.

"I'll be right back," said Tony, quickly hopping off of his bed and rushing out into the hallway.

William was almost to the stairs.

"William, wait!" said Tony, hurrying to him and tapping his shoulder.

"Yes son?" said William, turning to face the young boy.

It was the first time Tony had spoken to him directly without being prompted and the first time he had volunteered to be on his own with the older man.

"I'm sorry," said Tony, shifting his bare feet on the carpet. "I'm sorry that I'm so impossible around you. At least now you know why I am the way I am but I'm sorry. It's not personal, I swear, I don't like being around most adults and I want to thank you for trying to get me to relax."

"Of course," said William, his heart breaking all over again for this damaged boy who still put others before himself. "There's no rush. Take your time, I can wait."

Tony gave him a hug before running back to his room without another word. It lasted for less than a second but it was a step forward, a step towards healing, and William would take what he could get, because that step gave him hope that they had not acted too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found my charger! Also, that school thing was not the climax. There was a specific scene I thought of that made me write this entire story and it has not happened yet.
> 
> Always,  
> Ari

**Author's Note:**

> I know I shouldn't even try to claim this is going to be a 'short'. It's not. But....let's just all pretend it is, okay?
> 
> Always,  
> Ari


End file.
